A Sky Full of Fire
by 8andahalfby11
Summary: Dr. Carol Dawson, a NASA Engineering and Public Relations consultant, is offered the chance to support an American-Japanese joint space program on the far side of the Gate. During her mission, Dawson must contend with superstitious natives, secretive officers, and a risky international plot with the fate of two worlds hanging in the balance.
1. Chapter 1: Flight Plan

**Chapter 1: Flight Plan**

 **The White House, Washington D.C.**

If all of human history could be compressed into a single idiom, it would probably be "Playing with Fire." On the one hand, mankind has always prided itself in advancement through pushing boundaries, whether social, technological, or geographical. On the other, fire can and will eventually burn you.

This was also the idiom running through Defense Secretary Clayton's mind as he sat on one of the Oval Office's couches and considered the request of the Japanese man sitting across from him.

Japanese Minister of Defense Taro Kano was not smiling, a true rarity for a Japanese man conducting business. Clayton could recall the polite grins and head-bobbing nods he would see whenever the Japanese came to talk to him directly. Even in the aftermath of the Hakone Incident, the Ambassador would speak of the case as if it was no worse than a glass of spilled milk. The same ambassador was sitting next to Kano now, and looked like he was about to be sick.

"I take it that you understand the gravity of what you're asking us to do," Clayton said, flipping back through the report a second time. "I would hope that General Hazama does too, considering the contents of this dossier."

"We believe the report assembled by First Lieutenant Yanagida to be accurate," Taro said. "If the threat is as real as Lieutenant Youji makes it out to be, then this is the first time that the JSDF have encountered something that we don't have a home-made response for."

"IF the threat is real," Clayton countered, placing emphasis on the first word. "If it isn't then we would look pretty stupid if word of this ever gets out. Understand, Mr. Kano, that we are already on thin ice over Hakone—"

"Which our friends in the Japanese government have been very cooperative in keeping quiet about," President Dirrel stated from his desk at the other end of the room. The man had a grim smile on his face, and Clayton wondered if the President wasn't thinking back to the many loud arguments that had taken place in the Pentagon.

The past several weeks had been a minimally publicized hell, but hell nonetheless. The National Security Advisor had been fired outright, and the directors of the CIA and DIA had both quietly handed in their resignations. The Secretary of State had almost resigned over the news as well, but had been encouraged to remain, at least for a few months, to keep up an air of normalcy in the administration. If Clayton hadn't been at a NATO summit during the whole incident, he reflected, his head might have joined the others on the chopping block.

The American public knew little about the Hakone incident, the only noticeable change beyond the top-level personnel had been the unannounced and unpublicized addition of stars to the CIA memorial wall. A vague statement by a female JSDF member at a Ginza ceremony had gone largely unnoticed. Even so, the truth was that Japan now had America's President in just as troublesome a position as the President had once placed Prime Minister Motoi… and that was just the international scene. Dirrel had been forced to blow through an immense amount of political capital to get the Senate and House minority leaders to keep quiet, and the concessions involved had sealed the fact that he would _not_ be running for reelection.

"The suggested measure would make Hakone look like a joke in comparison," Clayton concluded.

Taro shrugged. "We recognize that this is a difficult decision, but surely you must see the long-term dangers posed to us, and potentially, the whole world. What can we offer?"

"You know what we want," Dirrel said.

"Aside from full, unrestricted military access to the Special Region," the Ambassador clarified. "We are deeply sorry, Mr. President, but that is still off the table."

"Thought so." The President turned to Clayton. "Rob, thoughts?"

"There are a handful of scientific phenomena from the Special Region that we had been hoping to study," Clayton said. "If you would, perhaps, be willing to share some samples…"

"It is only reasonable." The Ambassador nodded. "Very well. Prepare a list and our field operators will find these samples for you."

The two groups stood and, after a round of handshakes, Taro asked, "Out of personal curiosity, how will you be explaining this to your constituents?"

The Secretary of Defense chuckled and said, "Americans are, first and foremost, pioneers. How will we explain it, Mr. Taro? We will tell them that we are pioneering!"

 **ONE WEEK LATER**

 **Cape Canaveral Air Force Station, Florida**

Dr. Carol Dawson swept her hand towards the giant structure behind her. "There you have it," she said. "America's best rocket… at least, according to ULA."

She was leading a small private tour around Launch Complex 41, a facility that had been jointly operated by Boeing and Lockheed Martin for decades, and they had finally arrived at the Vertical Integration Building. The massive doors on the skyscraper-like structure were open, allowing her guests to see the vehicle within.

"The Atlas V booster, that's the orange part there, is just under a hundred-fifty feet, half the length of a football field. That white part art the top, the fairing, can be up to another fifty feet long, but we're using a slightly shorter one for Thursday's launch."

Carol looked to the VIP of her tour for a reaction. The Florida State Senator folded his arms and looked the rocket from top to bottom, clearly admiring without really comprehending what he was looking at. Not that Carol minded. The Senator's wife was gleefully snapping pictures with her cellphone camera as her five-year-old son bounced up and down shouting, "Look mom, it's a real, REAL rocket!" Even if the Senator didn't understand, if the wife and kid were happy, it usually meant more cooperation from the state government when it came to funding, and Carol knew that NASA would gladly take whatever it could get.

"So, for this one, where do the astronauts go?" the wife asked, swiping rapidly at her cellphone screen to increase the zoom.

Carol buried her frustration. Public Relations had told the group from the beginning that this was a payload rocket, not a manned vehicle, but most of the American public, as much as they loved NASA, didn't seem to understand much about spaceflight.

"So, if astronauts were flying on this rocket, they'd go at the top, up there," Carol said, pointing. "In fact, Boeing plans to start flying people on the Atlas V in a few years, and they'll all be launching from the pad behind us. If you look back over there…"

She turned to point back at the pad, and that was when she saw the other group approaching them. The first member was Jake, also from PR, and who was supposed to be out on vacation. The second was a man in his mid-fifties with thinning hair and sporting the dark navy service dress of an Air Force officer. The third was her boss's boss, NASA Administrator Kosinski.

Her first thought was that the officer and administrator were also on a tour—a sizeable chunk of Atlas V launches were for the National Reconnaissance Office, after all—but as she started into her explanation of the launch pad's new crew access arm, she saw the administrator give her a small wave and gesture for her to follow.

"And now I'd like to introduce you to my friend Jake," Carol said, waving the man over. "He's going to be continuing your tour with a closer look at the Atlas before taking you over to the SpaceX site at Complex 40. Thanks for being awesome guests, and I hope you continue to enjoy your tour of the Cape Canaveral Air Force Station and Kennedy Space Center!"

Once the tourists had left with the other guide, she approached the two remaining men. "Sorry about the delay Mr. Kosinski," she said, straightening her blouse. "It's the State Senator from Flager Country, and—"

"It's fine," Kosinski said with a laugh, then waved her towards the officer. "I wanted to introduce you to Colonel Richard Mullan, from the 94th Missile Wing."

The officer held out his hand and Carol shook it. "I heard a lot about you on the way here," he said. "That Venus probe—Akatsuki, I think it was? Really impressive work."

Carol laughed, then said, "I was one of a handful of NASA consultants, JAXA did most of the work."

"Actually, that's part of what we were hoping to talk with you about," Kosinski said, waving her in the direction of the launch pad. "Let's talk a walk."

Even in early March, the Florida cape was warm and humid. Now that they were out of the shadow of the Vertical Integration Building, Carol winced at the bright afternoon sun, then peered up at the cloud deck overhead. It didn't look like rain that day, but with Florida weather it always seemed impossible to tell.

"So, Dr. Dawson," Mullan began. "What have you heard in the news about the Gate?"

"Only what they put on CNN," Carol said. "I missed the live broadcast of those girls they brought to Japan a few weeks back, but I watched a shorter version of it later. Aside from that, there was some special that aired last week on NHK and was translated for 60 Minutes where they showed some of the stuff on the other side… I wasn't really paying attention because I was prepping for a conference on GOES-R. Why?"

The Colonel grinned and said, "What I'm about to tell you is strictly confidential, and falls under the same restrictions that we have for D.O.D. launches. Is that clear?"

"Yes, of course."

"Good. The short version is that Japan has asked us to help them run a space program in the Special Region on the far side of the Gate."

Carol stopped dead in her tracks and turned to fully face Mullan. "Huh?"

"Yeah," Kosinski said with a shrug. "That was my reaction."

"But they're in the middle ages over there," Carol pressed. "Swords and castles and things like that. Why would they need a space program?"

"Again, this is classified. Japan has two major problems that they're dealing with in the SR right now. The first is that there's a civil war occurring within the nation that attacked Japan last year. Japan knows that it's only a matter of time before they become involved, and they want to start gathering weather and topography data so that they can plan and coordinate attacks better."

"But if they wanted that, couldn't they just use planes or weather balloons?"

"Yes, but that leads us to the second problem. The JSDF has also encountered some really nasty stuff like that Fire Dragon they talked about at the Diet meeting. They also keep getting reconnaissance reports of other tribes and kingdoms beyond the one that they're currently interacting with. Japan would rather start doing long-distance recon and gather useful information now than be caught with their pants down later."

Carol didn't like it. She understood that everything she loved about rockets and spaceflight was a product of past defense needs, but the idea of old military demands forming the basis of a new world's first adventure to the stars was a sad one. Even then, the whole thing sounded like overkill for something that could probably be solved with high-power radio repeaters and long-duration aircraft.

Kosinski must have read her mind, for he added, "Outside of the military stuff, this is an excellent opportunity to gather data on a bona-fide habitable exoplanet. After all, the world beyond the Gate is just that, its own world with its own physics and orbital dynamics. What we discover there might speed up our own exoplanet searches here with the Kepler and Webb telescopes by giving us a better idea of what we should be looking for."

That was a fair point. "Even with all of this, why me?" Carol asked.

"Two reasons," Mullan said. "First, you have lots of experience with JAXA. Your records show that your Japanese is almost fluent, and you've spent enough time over there to get their culture. If we're going to coordinate with Japan on this, then we want someone who's done it before.

"The other reason is that we need someone to explain to the natives why they shouldn't be afraid of the giant tower of fire coming out of the JSDF base," he continued. "Basically, we need you to do public outreach to a group of people who have no clear idea what space is, to say nothing of how you put things up there."

Carol sighed and looked back in the direction of the other tour group where Jake was wildly waving up at the massive rocket behind him. The Senator's family seemed no more interested than they had at the start of the tour, and the wife was messing with her phone again. If she could hardly convince the people of her own world to pay attention to space, how would she convince anyone from another world?

But then she remembered the kid, the wide-eyed wonder at something new and spectacular. To most kids, space rockets were the pinnacle of "cool," the biggest, the fastest, and the most technologically advanced but, even more importantly, they were the modern symbols of adventure—the headlong rush into the unknown as humanity pushed the edge of what it could do.

If this world had really, truly never seen a proper rocket launch before, had never been opened up to the concept of space flight, then perhaps they would get it. Perhaps they might be able to catch some of the thrill and that, Carol supposed, would be worth it to witness.

"I'll do it," she said and then, with a smile, added, "When do we leave?"


	2. Chapter 2: Rollout

**Chapter 2: Rollout**

 **Ginza, Tokyo**

Thirty-six hours later, Carol felt more exhausted than she'd ever been in her entire life. The lack of sleep and jet lag, compounded by the rushed travel planning, note gathering, and studying made it so that it was a struggle for her to remain upright as the Humvee carried them in a seemingly endless convoy from Yokosuka Naval Base into the heart of Tokyo…a heart that she had already crossed once from Narita International Airport.

Even then, as they finally pulled to a stop in Ginza, Carol found herself blinking at the early-morning sun and pulling her jacket more tightly about her shoulders. Colonel Mullan, seemingly unaffected by anything, stepped out of the other side of the vehicle and joined her before gesturing down the road and saying, "remarkable, isn't it?"

In the middle of the intersection sat a giant, steel-paneled dome. At a glance Carol estimated that the dome was at least a hundred feet in diameter, and that the massive doors on the front were at least another thirty feet across. Even then, Carol imagined that it would still be a tight fit.

She turned and looked at the monster of a vehicle idling several feet behind their Humvee. The Hardened Mobile Launcher, HML for short, was a relic from the final years of the Cold War and was exactly what its name implied. It was a 14-wheel, 100-ton ICBM platform designed to go almost anywhere her little Humvee could.

Within it, she knew, was a similarly powerful piece of machinery: the MGM-134A "Midgetman" Missile, a solid-fuel rocket designed to lob a nuclear reentry vehicle from San Diego to Moscow in less than an hour. Fortunately, the nuclear weapons meant for Midgetman had long been reassigned to Minuteman IIIs after the program was shut down in the early 90s; the rockets heading through the Gate carried scientific payloads. The President himself had reactivated the three HMLs in their convoy and the Midgetman rockets as part of the new 94th Missile Wing, in an effort to provide Japan and NASA with the equipment needed to carry out the mission for their allies. "At least at first," Mullan had clarified when she'd first seen them. "Once the Japanese have a proper pad built over there, we hope to move to JAXA's Epsilon and NASA's Minotaur LVs."

Still, being next to the heavy vehicles made her feel small, and passers-by were quick to pull out their cellphones and cameras to take pictures of the giant machines. "Are they allowed to do that?" Carol asked Mullan.

"Yes."

"But aren't you worried about—I don't know—the Russians or the Chinese?"

The Colonel grinned down at her. "No need. We told them in advance that we'd be here."

"Why?"

"Imagine that one day, your enemy placed ICBMs on your doorstep without any warning. How would you feel? Just look how China's reacting to THAAD in South Korea, and that's a _defensive_ system. No, we warned them days ago that we'd be doing this, and we reached an agreement with their diplomats. Basically, we are required to send the loaded HMLs through the GATE before sundown tonight, and any missiles carried through to the Special Region cannot be carried back out. Besides," he pointed a thumb back towards the vehicles. "That's forty-year-old tech, and the Russians and Chinese have been operating platforms like Topol and Dongfeng since forever. I think that it's fair to say that their land-mobile systems are _better_ than our systems, so they don't have much to learn from our traveling museum exhibit."

Before them, JSDF personnel had just finished moving aside the last of the concrete barriers and were cycling the Gate open. Within, Carol could barely make out the lines of a boxy, pillared structure, like some old Grecian temple.

Mullan waved her back into the Humvee, and in minutes they were on their way again. As they charged into the darkness, Carol wondered briefly if they would experience any vertigo as they made the jump from one world to the other, but the event turned out to be far more mundane—boring, really, to the point that she stubbornly slapped herself awake before pulling out a stack of flashcards and a penlight as she returned to memorizing the more popular phrases of the Special Region's language. She had been promised an interpreter, but she still wanted to know enough to get by in case she became lost or the interpreter was unavailable.

Carol had expected her first experience of the Special Region to be bright light, clean air, and the quiet sounds of a place untouched by modern technology. She was dead wrong, of course, and the sight of the forward operating base reminded her of what she was truly heading into. Rather than clear air, she was met with the gritty stench of aviation fuel and diesel motors. Rather than general quiet, the continued bustle of tanks, trucks, and other personnel carriers penetrated even the noisy rumble of the Humvee…to say nothing of a helicopter that was approaching the nearby airfield for landing. Most remarkable of all, rather than the bright midday sun she had experienced in downtown Tokyo, it was approaching sunset. This last item settled it for her—in her notes, the length of the day was different from Earth, not unlike Martian Sols, which ran about half an hour longer than Earth days. Since the invasion, the asynchrony had built up, and time in the SR was now a few hours ahead of Japan.

It truly was another world.

After a few minutes, their Humvee and two others separated from the convoy and proceeded through the fortress to a medium-sized, prefabricated building just beyond the first of what appeared to be many large, concrete walls. If anything, it reminded Carol of the large trailers issued to under-refurbishment schools in the United States…sans the large Japanese flag flying on the pole out front.

The Japanese officers were already waiting for them out front, including one, Carol noticed, in a wheelchair.

One of the older officers stepped forward and reached out a hand to Mullan. "A pleasure to meet you at last, Colonel."

"The pleasure is mine, General Hazama," Mullan said with a smile, and shook the officer's hand. "If I may introduce you to the critical elements of my staff. Maj. Becker, 94th Operations Group; Capt. Hines and Lt. Garcia, 94th and 794th Security Squadrons; Lt. Maxwell, 94th Maintenance Group; and Dr. Carol Dawson, a consultant from NASA."

Hazama nodded and pointed to the small group around him. "This is Colonel Ishihara, 5th Combat Unit; Major Kamikoda, on loan from the 302nd Squadron; Colonel Mitsukuri, Logistics; and the one in the chair is 1st Lt. Yanagida, whose report is responsible for your presence here today."

Carol looked over at Yanagida, who was calmly examining the Americans through his glasses. On seeing Carol looking back at him, he raised an eyebrow and kept the stare until she looked away.

"Naturally, we still have much to discuss," Mullan said. "Though, due to the sensitive nature of the technology, I'd rather have the rest of this conversation in private."

"Of course! If you and your Operations officer can follow me…and, Major Kamikoda, if you and Mitsukuri could see to the remaining officers, that would be wonderful."

As the men started off in their different directions, Carol raced out in front of Mullan and said, "Excuse me, Colonel, but I was hoping that I would be able to be involved in the discussion regarding launch control and splashdown zones—"

"Already covered," Mullan stated. "I know that you've only had a limited time to study the overall plan, but I promise you, the things that the General and I have to talk about are outside of your field and cover things are beyond your security level."

"Yes," Hazama added, then looking to his side said, "Lt. Yanagida, I believe that your interpreter should be here soon?"

Yanagida, in shockingly fluent English, replied, "Yes, sir."

"Excellent, please stay with Dr. Dawson until they arrive."

"Yes, sir."

The officers either entered the building together or departed in the Humvees towards the airfield, leaving Carol alone with the Lieutenant. She knew that the situation was out of her hands, but it frustrated her to be stonewalled like this—what could possibly be so secret about technology that was soon to be half a century old? She was used to similar treatment in some engineering circles due to her gender, but this…

"It isn't worth worrying about, Dr. Dawson," Yanagida argued. "Military matters often aren't as interesting as they are in the movies."

It was then that Carol noticed that Yanagida shifted his legs as he talked—whatever injury had placed him in a wheelchair must have been something else. Noting her staring, he said, "Stab wound, during an incursion. It may be easy to forget inside the base walls, Dr. Dawson, but you _are_ standing in a combat zone."

Carol didn't know what to say. Sure, she had worked with plenty of airmen and sailors during her time at the Cape, but a solider wounded in combat? Perhaps it was her social circles or her media of choice, but things like Iraq and Afganistan had always felt so distant. "Did you…um…"

"Shoot her? Yes. Neither of us died, and she works for me now." He grinned at the deepening look of confusion on Carol's face and added. "It is one of the more interesting stories—at least, one of the more interesting stories that doesn't involve Itami and his… friends _…_ so tell me, what have they told you about the state of Alnus and the Special Region?"

"Only what was in the briefing," Carol replied. "The current civil war between Pina and Zorzal, the interventions that chased the Imperials from Sadera…and some of the adventures of Lt. Itami."

She shook her head. "I still don't feel like I've fully accepted some of the things in this world. In my days at JPL, Magic and Dragons were the punchline of jokes. Here, they're fact."

"Perhaps I should've had Delilah attend with me today."

"Who?"

"Nothing." Yanagida folded his hands in his lap. "I recognize that you come from a world of office politics and public relations, so it's only fair to warn you: the land of Falmart will make you rethink what you know—about people, about science, about society. The key is to take a deep breath and ask yourself if you're taking things too seriously, too _realistically._ It seems like those who are the most successful here are those who—I think the term is 'think outside the box'? Ah, I see that Specialist Takagi has arrived."

Takagi was a short woman (most Japanese were, weren't they?) with short, auburn hair. Most surprising to Carol was how young she looked. The interpreter snapped to attention and in Japanese called, "Reporting as ordered, sir!"

Yanagida's reply was also in Japanese, "This is the important person you'll be working with. Keep her in your sight at all times whenever she travels through the native settlement."

"Sir!"

"One more thing, she speaks fluent Japanese. I trust that you will keep others informed and aware of this."

The girl's eyes widened at that one—unlike your average American who assumes (incorrectly) that most people have some basic comprehension of English, Japanese typically expect Europeans to not know any functional Japanese.

"That is all," Yanagida said, then, switching back to English, said, "Dr. Dawson, I would advise against traveling through native portions without _ along with you. Unlike you, she is fluent in their language, and she has picked up on most of their culture too. I look forward to hearing how things progress, _yoroshku._ "

The officer departed for the command building, and _ clearly still unsure about Yanagida's claim, turned towards the scientist and asked, " _Nihongo-ga wakarimaska?_ "

Dawson nodded. " _Nihongo-ga wakarimasu"_

"That's amazing," Takagi continued in her native language. "I speak English too, but this is _way_ easier."

She gave a quick bow and added, "Takagi Sayo, pleased to meet you!"

"Thanks! I'm Carol Dawson, did Yanagida tell you about me?"

"Yes! He said you work with NASA… I must bring you to meet Professor Shirai at some time, he would be delighted to see another space scientist!"

Dawson was familiar with the name, but had never interacted with him. Turns out that astronavigation and deep-space astronomy share only limited ground.

"I should show you around," Takagi said. "We don't see much action, but you should still know about where it is and isn't safe to go, and where you should be going if something goes wrong."

"Do things go wrong often?"

"Did you see Yanagida-san?"

She had nothing else to say.

* * *

Meanwhile, Hazama sat with Mullan over a cup of tea in the corner office. Mullan was generally satisfied with the whole affair so far, and while some of the other officers were giddy over the whole concept of a fantasy world, Mullan was one of the sorts that "steely-eyed missile man" was drafted to describe.

"It is a very interesting team you have created, Colonel Mullan," Hazama said. "When they told me that I would be working with an Air Force missile wing, I was expecting a group of people that had never ventured far from your silos. Instead, Yanagida tells me that many are veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan."

"Due to the delicate nature of the technology, Secretary Clayton didn't want to go cheap on defense." Mullan said. He took a sip of tea, examined the cup for a moment, then added, "Originally he wanted to send an entire MEU through, but if your government won't tolerate more than the HMLs and a few helicopters, then we must acquiesce."

"You speak as if you were expecting to fight World War III over here."

"You know what we're up against. Are we?"

Hazama thought about it and said, "It is difficult to say, for the reasons we discussed over email. I can say, however, that Alnus stands no risk from Zorzal's forces. Moles and saboteurs are still a problem, but we have made some changes as a result of Yanagida's incident. The biggest concern at this point is dragons… speaking of which, did all of the samples your government requested arrive that their destination?"

"Of course."

"Good. One last thing… about Dr. Dawson, how much does she know?"

Mullan smiled and said, "As much as she needs to and nothing more."

"So she is not aware?"

"As far as Dawson is concerned, were are here to do exactly what we said we would do, and that's illustrate American goodwill to the Special Region through the virtues of our space program."

Hazama gave a derisive snort. "I am amazed that your Congress approved of this."

Mullan ignored the statement and said, "I also have one more question. How do you think that the region's civilians will react to a space program?"

Hazama shook his head. "Many of them cannot read or do basic math. I will be amazed if Dr. Dawson gets anywhere at all."


	3. Chapter 3: Range Safety

**Chapter 3: Range Safety**

Dawson set two objectives for herself the following morning; gather up any remaining info on Falmart's Meteorology and Astronomy, and determine _objectively_ what the reaction to a space program might be.

For the first, she stopped in to check on Professor Shirai.

Hitoshi Shirai was an older man, easily distracted, but clear and focused enough once she got him on topic.

"Their solar system is similar to our own, if perhaps a little smaller," he said, patting a large, wheeled refractor telescope that sat by his desk. "Their sun is slightly larger than our own, but the planets are proportionately further out, so we remain within the habitable zone. This means that the year is about twenty days longer than Earth's. The planet's axial tilt isn't as major either, which means that seasonal changes are more mild…none of those monsoons or Nor'easters that you see on Earth. They may have something like our Typhoons and Hurricanes, but we won't know with certainty until we deploy more sensors or get an observation satellite in orbit."

He smiled at that last point. While most of the other soldiers Carol had talked to, Americans and Japanese both, had responded to the idea of a Special Region space program with a hefty helping of sarcasm, the Professor was one of the rare few (outside of the aircraft pilots) to enjoy the idea.

"So they have a proportionate sun, and a proportionate moon. Beyond these, the people of Falmart are aware of four planets which they simply refer to as the Yellow Planet, Red Planet, White Planet, and Blue Planet. Yellow and Red are Venus and Mars analogs, while White is a gas giant, and is much like Saturn without the rings. That last one has at least three interesting moons, but it will be some time before we ever learn about their surface conditions. Finally, the fourth one, Blue, is a ringed Ice giant like Uranus… yet its close proximity to the parent star has many of my colleagues at the National Astronomical Observatory puzzled."

"That's wonderful," Carol said. "How many people have you met that know about them?"

He thought about it for a moment, then replied, "Two."

" _Two?_ "

"Actually, that's inaccurate. I met two that knew about the planets. Neither of them knew about the moons around The White Planet, and refused to believe that they were there." He smirked. "I wonder if I will be allowed to name one, since I seem to have discovered them first."

Carol slumped back in her chair. "And next, I suppose, you will tell me that the two that did know about the planets were either aristocrats or high-tier academics."

"Correct!"

"So there is no interest in space here?"

"I wouldn't say there isn't an _interest_ ," Shirai said. "The Special Region is a heavily agrarian culture, and, like most other agrarian cultures, they used the sky to establish a calendar. They have constellations and a zodiac, and they have identified and named a pole star. So there is an interest, just a lack of organized education."

Carol frowned. "Colonel Mullan wants to launch in one week. I'll be lucky if I can demonstrate and explain what a rocket _is_ in one week, to say nothing of what a rocket does."

Shirai shrugged. "It's business as usual, a farce of science to keep the politicians happy at home."

The NASA consultant stood and said, "I'm not giving up. If they don't understand the concept, I'll have to give demonstrations and present it in a way that they _will_ understand. Is there a bookstore around here? Somewhere where I can get a better picture of their culture and thoughts about the universe?"

"I think that I passed one in the settlement last week," the Professor said. "Takagi-chan, may I see your map?"

The interpreter produced a sizeable folding map and Shirai marked a location, then marked two other locations saying, "I think that you should visit these places too. The one on the far side is a public amphitheater, and would make a good stage for your demonstration."

"And the other?"

"The best tavern I've found in Alnus. You will need a drink, I suspect, before the day is over."

* * *

Colonel Mullan welcomed the idea of letting Dr. Dawson loose, but refused to allow her to travel without additional protection. First, he demanded that she wear a bulletproof vest and helmet while outside the fence. When Dawson protested, Mullan replied, "Hazama has some cute blue sets with 'UN' and 'PRESS' written on the front if it makes you feel better, but almost none of the Falmart natives read English, and even those that can would attempt to stab you if they're so inclined. Hell, Hazama tells me that one of their Red Cross people was almost murdered out there. Humanitarianism is a new concept to these people, so if you go outside the walls, you go armored. Are we clear?"

Next, he demanded that she be escorted at all times by a pair of airmen from the 794th Security Squadron. "No offense to Specialist Takagi, but I imagine that interpreting is difficult enough without having to watch for enemies at all times. I would rather add two more men with proper equipment than risk your health. It would be difficult to find someone else with your qualifications."

When Carol met them, the two guards in question were decked out in the tan combat gear that Dawson was used to seeing from news reports of soldiers overseas. At first glance, the one key difference was the patch with the letters SF stitched on each one's left shoulder. Since she was still not used to the sight, it took her an extra few seconds to drag her eyes from the leading man's M4 and examine each of them as people.

The first one, Staff Sergeant Foster, appeared to be in his mid-twenties, was short and lanky—about an inch shorter than her—and had a New England accent when he talked, which he did often. "Well, sure, miss, we've been waiting for you to show since we got here, and the Wi-Fi today's at a fucking snail's pace…"

The other airman, Technical Sergeant Schumer, a tall and heavily built man in his mid-30s, acknowledged Carol with a fast nod and, "Don't mind him, ma'am. You do your thing, we'll do ours."

This left one last thing: to actually step beyond the security gate, and make the short drive out to the Alnus settlement.

"A few more things," Takagi said as their Humvee pulled to a stop, "The people at the Alnus Settlement don't have much experience with foreigners, outside a few foreign officers that we had in a while back. We told them a few days ago that Americans would be here, but I don't think that any of them fully understand who or what you are. Please be patient with them, especially the demi-humans. They seem to be more skittish."

"Demi-what?" Carol said.

"You'll see."

Carol had visited London once, long ago, as part of a college program. During the trip, she'd had a chance to visit a number of locations that either mimicked or preserved old Elizabethan architecture, with white plaster walls, wood cross-boards, and buildings packed side to side with second floors that jutted out over the street. The houses and shops at the Alnus settlement, Carol thought, looked remarkably similar. If not for the signs in the strangely blocky language used by the people of Falmart, she would have thought she was back in some part of the U.K.

As for the people themselves, the clothes they wore spanned a scope of styles fitting somewhere between 16th and 17th century Earth. Some more wealthy individuals—or so Carol supposed by the addition of gold to their clothes—sported stylized armor, togas, or dresses that had a distinct flair that reminded her of depictions of ancient Rome. Some trudged along on foot, while others took horse-drawn carts or coaches. As she watched, a JSDF MP raced by on a bicycle, and many of the passers-by stopped and turned to watch the contraption as it went on its way… which was when it struck her: the concept of a _bicycle_ was still new to these people.

Curious, she glanced back at her two guards. Schumer hardly reacted at all, but Foster had a bemused grin on his face. Noticing her looking at him, he told Carol, "Crowded streets, overhanging houses… should we go back for more guys?"

"The town is thoroughly canvassed by Military and Volunteer police," Takagi said. "And the citizens realize that the JSDF can throw out or execute troublemakers, depending on the amount of trouble. The handful of attacks have been lone wolf incidents, and each is investigated. Yanagida-san's stabbing was the worst incident on record and he's still alive, if that makes you feel better."

As they made their way to the bookstore, Takagi's prediction came true—they drew lots of stares, and after a while, murmurs. Eventually, Carol found herself picking out a word being repeated often by the locals, and she asked Takagi what it meant.

"It means Tan," she said. "Those who don't know of the JSDF by their name or nationality often refer to them as the Men in Green. Between your vest and the airmen's uniforms, the line you keep hearing is Men in Tan."

Foster snorted. "Men in Green, what is this, Ukraine—"

Schumer cut him off with a poke to the side, then nodded at an alleyway ahead. "Thug activity, you got eyes on them?"

But they were not attacked, and they proceeded through the streets of the settlement in safety. The bookstore, when they found it, was as Carol pictured a bookstore should be. Small, dense, and quiet. Within, leather-bound books lined the shelves and were piled up into stacks on tables, each one individual, each one without a copy, each one with the meticulous style attributed to a media form that was, in the Special Region, still done entirely by hand. This only made her more nervous about her prospects as an old high school history lesson surfaced in her mind. _Before the invention of the printing press, knowledge was slow to spread, and books themselves were the domain of the affluent._ Even then, someone must have written about astronomy, and its history with regards to Falmart.

The shopkeeper was a large, bespeckled man who looked up at them with some suspicion as they entered. "I've never had the Men in Green enter my shop before," he said in practiced (but still rough) Japanese. "What are you looking for today?"

"Do you have any books on Astronomy?" Carol asked.

He appeared to be confused for a moment, before Takagi stepped in with the regional word for the same. At that, his scowl deepened. "I have precisely the person for you to talk to. Greta!"

At the command, Carol heard a commotion from the back of the shop, followed by a gasp and a collection of thuds as a stack of tomes collapsed.

The girl who charged out of the back of the store didn't look much older than nineteen or twenty with walnut-brown hair and deep green eyes, but as she made her way to the front of the shop and into the light, Carol noticed the ears… or, to be more precise, the way they were positioned further up the sides of her head and shaped like… like…

"You're seeing this, right?" Foster whispered to Schumer. "She's a fucking cat—"

The other airman shot him a look and Foster stopped, shook his head and added, "When we get home, no one, and I mean _no one_ is going to believe this."

By this point the girl was closer and cowering under some extended berating in that not-quite-Latin/not-quite-Greek language that made up the Imperial native tongue. Takagi backed up a few steps and whispered a brief summary in English. "Apparently she is a freeloader, and has been spending most of her mornings here doing organizational work—poorly—for just enough for meals, but spends all time not spent on customers with her nose in a book. The only reason why the shopkeeper hasn't thrown her on the street is because she knows more about some books than just their names and titles."

Rant over, the manager turned back to Takagi and said, "This ungrateful wench is Greta La Sareteian. She will find your books on Astronomy."

The girl gave them an awkward curtsey, and Carol noticed that Greta's dress was worn and patched in many places, as if she'd traveled some distance in it. "This way," she said in Japanese, and waved them to follow her to the back of the room.

The two airmen stayed near the front of the store, and while Carol and Takagi followed the demihuman—that's what she had to be—towards a partially-buried stack in the far corner. "Is there a particular topic in Astronomy you're looking for?" she asked.

As Takagi started to speak, Carol cut her off and said, "I was hoping that you, personally, might tell us your own thoughts on Astronomy first."

"Mine?" Greta brought a hand to her mouth in shock, and Carol found herself looking for claws in place of fingernails… but was satisfied to see that Greta's hands, at least, seemed perfectly human. "But—no. I barely know anything. If you want an expert, I would suggest reading Passol's _Calculations and Optics,_ or—or if you're feeling adventurous and don't mind questionable theory we do have one work by Mochrie—"

Carol bent over so that she was eye-level with the girl, then said, "Greta, I already know quite a lot about astronomy, but what I think you can tell me is more valuable than what I can learn about in those books. Can you tell me how you first learned about astronomy? How much you learned and where you learned it?"

She looked away and clasped her shoulders, seemingly embarrassed to go any further.

"It's…embarrassing. I'm not a scholar, and I've never known any wealth of my own—"

The shopkeeper snapped at Greta in Native Imperial again. She shrank away from his voice and her ears drooped. "Um, I really should be encouraging you to buy a book or two…"

Irritated at the treatment, Carol declared, loud enough so that he shopkeeper could hear, "She's not doing anything wrong."

At which point the shopkeeper began shouting at Carol instead, still in that incomprehensible regional language, prompting Takagi to step in, firmly addressing the owner with her own string of rapid-fire Imperial. They argued briefly before the interpreter turned back to Carol and said, "He claims that price of the books is one Sinku… 80% off provided that we take Greta away."

Carol started into her mental math. There were four main denominations of coin in the special region, the gold Suwani and Sinku, the Silver Denari, and the copper Soruda. According to her guide, there were five Sinku in one Suwani, but each Suwani was used primarily in banking or large settlements, such as reparations with Japan, who had set the exchange rate at roughly 200,000 yen...based in no small part due to the fact that each coin contained something like 60 grams of gold. Based on recent exchange rates for 40,000 yen, the three-figure dollar value of each Sinku made Carol 's jaw clench. There were some people at NASA who were still waiting to upgrade from Windows XP, and this maniac was trying to get them to pay hundreds of dollars per book? If nothing else, it gave her a newfound appreciation for the modern printing press, and the much, _much_ more reasonable prices of her local Barnes  & Noble.

Either way, they would be playing into the manager's hands. Carol glanced back to the cat-girl, who looked like she was wishing that she could fade into the nearby shelves and made a call based on limited evidence—somehow, this down on her luck girl was citing local in academics on astronomy. If any Falmart native could give her a proper look at the local view of space, it was this girl—cat— _girl_. Turning to Greta, Carol told her, "Do you want to get out of this place? Your Japanese is superb, and I could use a local on my team."

She looked up at Carol with those deep, green eyes and gave a barely perceptible nod. The shopkeeper must have seen, for he muttered something else in Imperial.

"For that, we are buying nothing," Carol shouted back at him, then "Greta, grab your things, _quickly_."

* * *

A few uncomfortable minutes later, and they were back outside. "For now, let's go back to the Humvee," Carol said. "Then we can do lunch, talk, and come up with a showcase plan."

As Carol led the girl away, followed quickly after by Foster, she missed a scene occurring a few paces behind her; Takagi was hanging back several steps, and had caught Schumer's attention. "You alright?" he asked.

She thought for a moment, then asked, in English, "Were you deployed in the Middle East?"

Schumer nodded.

"Was it like this over there too?"

"What do you mean?"

"When we first came to Falmart, the people treated us like the best thing that had ever happened to them. Most of the people in this town came here because they heard of how amazing things were from the survivors of Coda… and here they still have a life far better than anything they left behind. Electric lights, Japanese imports, a guarantee of safety from Dragons or large armies… this would have been unthinkable for most of the people here.

"But now? It's like that man in the book store. The way they look at us is… bitter, like they don't want us here. Like they performed all of our victories themselves and don't want anything more from us other than money and trinkets. I told Dr. Dawson that there have been few assaults, but theft is very common. Sure, some of them are still nice, and they will all straighten up and smile if General Hazama or a hero like Itami Youji passes by, but the smiles are fake.

"What I mean to ask is… does it get any better?"

Schumer said nothing for a while, allowing the conversations of pedestrians and the shouts of stall owners to fill the space. It was only as they followed the other three into a fountain square that he said, "I was attached to the 447th Wing in Iraq for a while. I wasn't there during the invasion, but knew a few guys who were. They said something similar."

"And?"

Schumer shrugged. "And that's how people are."

Takagi nodded up towards the scientist. "Do you think she understands that?"

"Maybe a little. I can tell she doesn't get it about the armed forces, but NASA people have been given the cold shoulder by most Americans since Apollo ended. Challenger and Columbia probably didn't help. It wouldn't surprise me if she jumped at Greta just because she was the first person to take interest. Takagi, are cat people like Greta trustworthy?"

Takagi smiled, "About as much as any human. That reminds me, Yanagida-san wanted to know, why does Colonel Mullan wish to have the first rocket launch so quickly?"

The airman offered no reply.

* * *

 **Author's note: Details and names of the Special Region's planets are drawn from LN Volume 5 Chapter 6. The content of that section will be retreaded in a later chapter, but I thought that you should know that the existence of these planets, at least, is canon.**


	4. Chapter 4: Propellant Loading

**Chapter 4: Propellant Loading**

 **Alnus Settlement, Alnus**

While Schumer and Takagi talked, Carol and Greta were getting to know one another.

"My sister and I were orphaned at a young age," Greta explained. "For a while we served as maids in a household north of here. The family was rich and owned a lot of land, but despite the efforts of their parents, their children were more interested in war and fighting than books or politics. They could barely read by the time they finally went off for training, which was remarkable as the family owned a large library. Late at night, my sister and I would sneak into the library and use our master's reading lessons to learn how to read on our own. One day we were caught by the lady of the house, who was happy to see that her books were getting _some_ use, and allowed us to borrow books to read at night."

"What kinds of books?"

"All kinds. Stories, records, speeches, theories and reports on natural philosophy and politics. I like natural philosophy-there's so much about the world to know, and so much to still find out."

"How did you wind up here?" Carol asked.

"Months ago, when the JSDF came through the Gate, they utterly destroyed the armies of five nations. The survivors and many mercenaries from these armies ransacked the countryside for a long time after that, until the Japanese ended them at Italica. Between the two, our lady's household was attacked. Everyone fled, and my sister and I were able to sneak into the Alnus settlement last month."

"When you say that you snuck in-"

The Japanese keep identification records for every resident, because they hope that it will help them prevent crimes and spying." She reached into a pocket on her skirt and pulled out a drivers-license-sized plastic photo ID card. In the picture, Greta looked almost comically confused, which made sense. The people of Falmart were far, far away from inventing digital cameras.

"If you came in without an ID, how did you get one?"

"The JSDF caught us, and an officer named Yanagida made us an offer-Teesa, my sister, would go to your side of the Gate for an interpreting job, and I would remain here with this card." She sighed. "One of us had to go, and she learned Japanese faster than I did. I haven't heard from her since."

Carol wondered if she should put in an inquiry with Mullan, and was about to turn to Foster and ask when Greta asked, "Are you a soldier?"

"Me?" Carol said. "No. I'm a scientist… I mean, I'm a nature philosopher."

"What do you study?"

 _Here we go._ "I study the technique for throwing automatons outside the sky and making them fly to the planets."

Since Greta had mentioned an interest in astronomy, Carol had assumed that she would know about the planets. Despite this, she noticed the change on Greta's face from interest at "automatons" to shock at "sky" and finally incredulity at "planets." She might as well have said to an American, "I mine televisions from my ears to make pasta."

"How can that be possible?" Greta asked. "Surely anything you throw must come back down eventually. Or are you using magic to hold it up there?"

"No magic. There's a trick to it," Carol said. "Would you like to learn it?"

Greta nodded.

"Then let's start with the basics. For that, I'll need my equipment…"

* * *

As it turned out, there was a procedure to presenting at the auditorium, which allowed presenters to make their cases with a small fee. Even Carol, a foreigner as she was, was unable to secure a presentation slot without pay, or with priority.

That said, she was comfortable with the idea of waiting, having given plenty of presentations before and certain to give plenty of other presentations afterwards. It was a good thing, she decided, as she examined her prospective audience, as it gave her time to gauge the people watching for personal and academic backgrounds.

This time, she also had Greta and Takagi to lend a hand. "No elites today," Takagi said, glancing over those in attendance. "Decent number of demi-humans, which means a low income, low education, and debatable interest in academic topics."

"What would they know about?" Carol asked Greta. "Can I at least depend on them knowing archery and blacksmithing?"

She nodded, but said, "Surely the trick to flying beyond the sky isn't a giant bow and arrow."

"No, good guess though!"

The man on the stage ahead of them had been rambling about one topic for a solid fifteen minutes, and Carol had tuned him out initially, but now, as she anticipated her own performance, she asked Greta what the man was talking about.

"He's a follower of Hardy," Greta said. "He has been saying that the Men in Green bring doom upon themselves by interfering in Hardy's plan."

Carol had felt with plenty of fundamentalist nutjobs in her time, protesting or promoting everything under the sun. Conservatives decrying the use of NASA funding for Earth studies, Liberals demeaning the already-meager NASA budget in favor of diverting the funds to social services, religious advocates threatening over the NASA-supported theory of stellar/universal creation, and atheists damning NASA over religious lines delivered by on-duty astronauts. If the topic held public attention, then there would always be a group around to criticize it. "Is this common?" She asked.

"It has been more common since the incident with the Fire Dragon."

The scientist looked to Takagi. "What incident with a fire dragon?"

"Apparently, an Apostle of the goddess Hardy was responsible for awakening the Fire Dragon," Takagi explained in English. "Itami Youji lead an expedition to kill the monster. He succeeded, but the same Apostle tried to intervene by waking up two more, younger Fire Dragons. JSDF air and armor elements were in the area, obliterated these too, and sent the apostle fleeing in terror. We then dumped the Fire Dragon's head in front of the Imperial Capitol, to help illustrate the consequences of all-out war with us. While this led to the current civil war between Pina and Zorzal, it also led to a great deal of anger from Hardy supporters. Protests have been peaceful so far, but I can imagine that Zorzal or the Hardy worshippers would love it if this man started a riot."

"Can't you just throw him out?" Carol asked.

This time, it was Foster that answered, "Heh, no. You don't touch the religious guys. If we ever so much as breathed on an Imam in Iraq, the media and civilians would be up our asses and down our throats before anyone could get a word in. It sucks to hear, but it's better to let the guy yell."

She turned back to Greta. "How many people believe this stuff?"

The cat girl seemed surprised. "Everyone does. I pray every day that it does not come to pass."

Carol decided to back off the topic. No sense in getting involved with a religious argument. Besides, she had plenty of religious coworkers and their beliefs had yet to impede a mission or launch.

The man on the stage finished his speech and departed to some hushed conversations in the audience. Some of them, Carol suspected, were discussing the controversial speech. Others had likely noticed the group of foreigners and their boxes standing offstage. "Has the JSDF ever given a presentation here before?" She asked Takagi, and the interpreter shook her head.

As the scientist guided Greta in setting up the equipment, Takagi took center stage and addressed the audience. Carol damned her inability to fully absorb the language of the Special Region, but she knew what the Japanese woman was saying, as they had discussed it at length on the ride down.

"Hello everyone!" The interpreter would say, then, after introducing herself, "This is Carol Dawson, a scholar from the United States of America. She was invited here by the JSDF to help perform a natural philosophy study about the skies of Falmart. As a part of this study, she will be introducing a special tool that will be used to collect information about the skies."

Then, in Japanese, "Dr. Dawson, are you ready?"

Carol nodded and addressed the audience in her own Japanese, stopping periodically so that Takagi could catch up with her interpretation. "Hello everyone! Out of personal curiosity, how many of you have experience with bows and arrows?"

She raised a hand to demonstrate, unsure of hand-raising was part of the culture. Fortunately, a decent number of those in the audience followed suit.

"Excellent. I think that anyone who has used a bow and arrow will agree that the force that causes the arrow to fly is the tense bowstring pushing the arrow along, right?"

Bored nods. The bowstring threw the arrow, this was obvious.

"But what if there was another way to throw the arrow?" This time Carol presented a plastic dart. "For today's demonstration, this will be our first arrow."

She turned around and picked up her second prop, the air bladder, tube, and tripod. "This is something many of you should know about. It's a bellows, just like what you see at a blacksmith's." To demonstrate, she pointed the tube at her face and forcibly squeezed the air bladder. This caused a puff of wind to blow her hair back and drew a few chuckles from the crowd.

"Now, what if we could use a lot of air all at once to push the arrow? This is actually possible! Watch carefully." She placed the contraption back on the stage, setting the tube section so that it pointed straight upwards, then placing the plastic dart over the end.

Next she looked over at Schumer and said, "That's your cue!"

Schumer walked over to the end of the device and, once he was certain that Carol was safely out of the way, jumped with as much force as he could and landed with both feet on the air bladder.

The stomp-rocket worked as designed, and with a loud _pop_ the escaping air hurled the plastic dart well over fifty feet into the air before it tilted over and landed on a nearby rooftop. The audience followed the object's flight with mild amusement and several chuckles, but Carol noted that they _were_ paying attention. It was a good sign.

"Of course, you may be thinking to yourself that a bow must work better than this, so why bother? The answer is an interesting piece of technology from my world."

This time, she displayed to them a twelve-inch balsa wood model rocket, built from a cheap kit. For most of these people, she knew, this was the first rocket they had ever seen, and a limited display of the potential of the technology. "This is called a rocket," Carol explained. "It uses a kind of alchemy to super-compress air, then release it as a controlled explosion.

She turned and lowered the rocket onto the guide wire of the launching stand that she had set up during Takagi's speech. After taking a moment to connect the firing wires, she made her way over to the control box, where Greta was sitting, studying Carol's every word and each new item that she introduced. As far as Carol was aware, she'd set up every element correctly, and the armed light was lit. The only thing left to do was close the ignition circuit by pressing the launch button.

Except that, she knew, these model rocket launchers weren't exactly ICBMs like Midgetman. They weren't guaranteed to work, and she had been to plenty of model rocket demonstrations where the host had pressed the big red button, and the engine didn't fire. In English, she muttered to herself _"please work,_ " and pressed the firing key.

Nothing happened.

 _No, no, no, come on!_ She thought and jammed the button down, hard.

This had the desired effect. With a loud hissing jet of flame, the rocket leapt off the pad, going higher and higher until the exhaust plume gave out, and the rocket was nearly lost from view. High overhead, Carol knew, the model rocket motor had forced its way out of the nose cone, and the spent vehicle was on its way back down. Since it was a balsa wood rocket and under the drag power of multiple streamers, there was little chance of it injuring anyone on the way back down.

She quickly dropped her gaze back down to the audience. While the stomp-rocket had been a general miss, the model rocket with the solid fuel motor had gotten a far more powerful reaction from the audience. Some were standing in shock or surprise at the sound, others' mouths were agape at the sudden acceleration, and nearly all of them had their eyes turned towards the heavens to follow the rocket's descent.

Carol looked over at Greta, who had toppled over at the initial sound, but was now gleefully following the rocket before looking down and meeting her eyes. She knew the look on her face, the wide eyes, the excited grin, but she rarely saw it much outside of children. _Somewhere between those cat-ears, the lightbulb has gone off,_ she thought. "And that's just one!" Carol exclaimed to her audience. "Would anyone like to see a bigger one?"

A few shouts of assent, which quickly picked up. Now more of them were standing, squinting and leaning forward to get a better look at the next rocket that Carol removed from her case. This one was even larger than the previous one, and where the first one had four fins around its base, this one had six, arranged in three pairs and stacked one on top of the other. After this one was set up, she turned to Greta and said, "You launch this one."

"B-but, I have no experience in this magic, how could I possibly—"

"That's the beauty of technology," Carol said, pointing to the launch button. "It's a twenty-first century design. Just press and go."

Greta gave an uncertain look and, feeling the eyes of the audience on her, looked down at the control box. The controls on the surface were labeled in a language that she didn't understand, but, as Carol had pointed out, there was only one button, and so she pressed it.

The second rocket shot off and into the sky and, just as it seemed to run out of fire to throw, there was a puff of smoke, the bottom of the rocket detached, and the second stage ignited, carrying the rocket even higher and further downrange.

More gasps of awe and amazement. "So let us take this a few imaginary steps further," Carol said, addressing her audience. "You will notice that the second rocket was bigger than the first, and flew further and faster. Much as a catapult is more powerful than a sling, the bigger the rocket you make, the further it can go… far enough, in fact, that a rocket that is big enough and goes fast enough can leave the sky behind it and go into the outer space."

It felt weird to say, "the outer space," like that, but it properly reflected the term's origin, and explained it in a way that the natives could understand. In the eager faces she could see the gears starting to turn as the possibilities presented themselves. "For this reason, it excites me to tell you that the United States Air Force will be assisting the Japanese Self Defense Force in launching a series of giant rockets that will travel into this outer-space, and use the height to study Falmart's air, weather, and the country below.

"If any of you have questions, I would be happy to answer them now."

A dozen hands went up in the audience. Carol selected a younger man first who said, "What kind of magic produces the explosion that throws the rocket? I have never seen anything like it before, even at festivals!"

Carol smiled. "Not magic at all...we call it chemistry, but you call it alchemy. We discovered that the right mixture of materials, when set aflame, burns strongly and powerfully enough to lift rockets into the sky. We call this fuel, because it's stuff that we burn, much like you would burn oils in an oil lamp."

"How big of a rocket will the JSDF and air force launch?" A large woman near the back asked.

"The biggest rocket we launched today came up to here on me," she said, pointing to a spot a few inches below her left hip. "The big rocket we will launch next week is about seven or eight times taller than I am. Thicker around the middle too, so it contains more fuel. The rockets we launched today... so I am about five and a half feet tall. Today's best rocket went up to about fifteen hundred feet. The big rocket will go more than two hundred times the distance of today's best rocket."

She could see them struggling with the math so, recalling the distance, asked Takagi for a rough translation for 2000km (though even this measurement was for the edge of space, not for the estimated apogee). Takagi's translation was, "About three times the distance from here to the Imperial city of Sadera."

To the people listening, this was still a mind-boggling distance, considering as most of them had never traveled much further than the nearby trade hub of Italica.

This time, an older man asked the question. "Won't piercing the heavens incur the wrath of Flare?"

This time, Carol looked to Greta for an explanation. "Flare is the god of the Sun," she explained simply.

 _Again with the Gods?_ She would need to be careful here, she realized. These people clearly held strong religious beliefs, and it would be important not to anger any of them. "Of course not," Carol said, trying her best to sound sincere and confident. "We take great care with our rockets and aspire not to anger anyone. In fact, the exact time that I have been given for launch will be when the sun is low in the sky, so we do not stand any chance of hitting it by accident."

The truth was that there was zero risk of hitting the SR's sun with a rocket, even if they aimed the rocket directly at it. Carol knew just how far away a planet needed to be to remain in the habitable zone of its host star, and that range was far, far, far beyond what Midgetman could reach. For that matter, Midgetman couldn't touch the Special Region's moon either.

A few other simple questions later, and Carol finished up by stating, "I plan on having this show every other day until the day of the big rocket launch, so be sure to tell your friends, neighbors, and employers about what you saw. I would be more than happy to explain the finer details of rockets to anyone that asks."

She finished with a formal bow to an eruption of applause, and they cleared off the stage. "Well, it wasn't exactly _Hamilton_ on Broadway," she said to Schumer as they made their way back to the Humvee, "but I think it worked. The more the news gets around, the happier they'll be about the upcoming launch. Good going team, especially you, Takagi. And Greta, what did you think of your first rocket launch?"

The girl hadn't been paying attention, for she looked up at the scientist and said, "I also have a question about rockets."

"Ask away."

"Before, when you said that you fly automatons to the planets… are the planets far away?

"Yes."

"So you must have really, really, really big rockets to get them there, right?"

"Correct again.

"Big enough to put people on top?"

Carol raised an eyebrow. "Maybe. Why do you ask?"

Greta said, "The best way to learn something new is to experience it yourself," Greta replied. "And… and it would be nice if I could do something that my sister hasn't yet."

She grasped Carol's hand and continued. "I will do whatever it takes, learn whatever I need, to prove to my sister that I can compete on her level. She beat me in reading, in learning, even in Japanese… I want to learn about rockets and make them my own, Ms. Carol, so please, is it possible to take a rocket to the outer-space?"

The scientist hesitated, then said, "In our world, it's possible. On yours, we don't know just yet, and that's why the big rocket launches we have coming up are so important. They will let us know if we can do it in the future."

"I want to help, in any way I can!"

Carol allowed her an amused smile. "Then we have a lot to talk about, and let me tell you, it truly is one of the most exciting stories you'll ever hear."

* * *

 **Alnus FOB, Alnus**

Later that evening, Takagi stepped into 1st Lt. Yanagida's office. Like most days, he was hunched over his desk, tracing out the positions of units based on new intel from the field. Seeing her glancing down at the map, Yanagida stated, "The situation has not changed much. Zorzal continues to operate out of Telta, and appears to be massing a force to counter us. Col. Kengun continues to drag the Italica government to victory… even if Pina isn't the best tactician, she is very cooperative when given instructions. On the other side of the coin, we still haven't made progress in getting the scholars at Rondell to declare for either side, and our long-range F4 sorties are still picking up that worrying surface signal from the Southern sea."

The bunny-girl at his side, Delilah, offered him a cup of tea and he waved it off. The entire relationship was eerie, Takagi reflected as she watched Yanagida sigh as the demihuman stroked the hair on his head with one hand, and placed the other on one of the officer's shoulders. No one could believe that Yanagida still kept her around, considering that the two had nearly murdered each other a few months prior, but in her drive to do better, Delilah had fully committed herself as an aid to Yanagida and the JSDF. Even if he did spurn her overt affection, the Lieutenant clearly valued the combat skill and regional knowledge that his attacker possessed, and had yet to complain about anything beyond the timing of her romantic overtures.

It was like Greta, in a way, which is what Takagi had come to report about. "Your instructions to professor Shirai were quite effective, and Carol has formed a fast connection to Greta La Sareteian."

"Has the connection turned up anything of substance?"

"Not yet, sir. It seems like Dr. Dawson is just as in the dark about the export program as most Americans are with Hakone. Regardless, it means that the subject is being brought up, and we can expect more responses on what The United States did with the population samples that we sent them."

"Very well. You are dismissed."

But Takagi did not move. "Sir," she said. "May I ask a question?"

"Make it a good one, Takagi- _chan_."

The use of the diminutive was not lost on the interpreter, but she pushed on anyway. "Sir, why are we investigating the Americans. Even with Hakone, aren't they our—"

"It is _precisely_ because of Hakone that they deserve investigation," Yanagida pointed out. "First, Hakone is swept under the rug, then our government makes an offer to begin a space program while offering up Falmart's citizens to the United States for heavens-knows-what purpose? It is a complete reversal from where we stood at the time. I have a suspicion on what prompted this change in policy, and if I am correct in my assumptions then I will not intervene... but if America is involved for any other reason, then it is up to us to discover why."

The intelligence officer leaned across the desk and said, "Information is our specialty, Ms. Takagi. Dr. Dawson may be the sweetest American on Earth, but there will not be another Hakone. We will not be caught unprepared again, and we will most certainly treat their 'peaceful' space program with the skepticism it deserves until it is _abundantly_ clear what the Americans desire from this place.

"Are we clear on the investigation now, Takagi- _chan?_ "

The interpreter and combat intelligence agent snapped to attention, uttered a firm "Yokai." _Roger._

"Dismissed."


	5. Chapter 5: Go for Launch

**Chapter 5: Go for Launch**

 **ONE WEEK LATER**

 **Alnus FOB, Alnus**

Greta began her morning the way she had begun every morning since her childhood. After bathing and dressing, she made her way out of the barracks building to a green space where she faced into the wind, lowered herself to her knees, and placed her hands together in prayer. The words she had memorized long ago, and there was no requirement to repeat them aloud, but she found comfort in their familiarity:

 _Goddess of Study, La, the one that dwells_

 _Between all words and speech and life that's shown._

 _Who grants the means to let us drive away_

 _the shrouds which swathe the sum of what is known._

 _I thank thee for thy studying technique_

 _And granting me that knowledge which I earn._

 _Open my mind to those who wish to teach,_

 _And show me ways to grow from what I learn._

Before she could add a personal statement, her train of thought was interrupted by a loud roaring noise, and she looked up to see one of the helicopters hovering overhead.

During her days at the Alnus Settlement, Greta had observed the JSDF to operate many flying vehicles, but it wasn't until Carol had moved her onto the base that she learned of their names; the "Huey" with its boxy shape and open middle, the squat "Cobra" where two pilots sat one behind the other and which carried all manner of strange objects on its sides, the bulky "Chinook" with its twin rotor-wings, and the silver "Phantom" airplane that arced through the sky liked the rockets that Carol adored.

The vehicle above her was none of these; larger than a Huey, sleeker than a Cobra, and lacking the distinctive shape and second rotor of the Chinook, this was something else entirely. It was one of two "Hawk" helicopters that the Americans had brought through with them for the sake of recovering rocket parts after a successful launch.

Of course, the American airmen had been quick to assure her that it was a military aircraft, and it was fully capable of "fucking over" anything that tried to attack it.

As she stood and started on her way over to the airfield hangars, she found herself contemplating the relationship between the Americans and Japanese for what felt like the millionth time.

Her initial assumption had been that America was a vassal state of Japan, much like Elbe was a vassal state of the Empire, but the more people she asked, the less this seemed to be the case. Most of the USAF airmen and JSDF soldiers referred to each other simply as allies, but the first hint the of the truth started to appear as an irate Japanese private stated, "Vassal state? No, the opposite is true."

Apparently, the American military dwarfed its Japanese counterpart, and operated battalions and battle fleets all over the world beyond the Gate. They were experts at war technology, and airmen had described everything from movable islands that could launch airplanes to pilotless vessels that used Carol's rockets to spy on other armies from a high-up place they called Orbit. The Cobra, Huey, Chinook, and Phantom were all American inventions, purchased by Japan or licensed for manufacture. A long time ago, America and Japan had fought a war against each other. America had won while simultaneously fighting a separate enemy thousands of miles away.

She had once asked Technical Sergeant Schumer how long it would take the Americans to win the war in the Special Region. He had thought about it while drawing on a cigarette, then replied, "If we had been here at the start, three months. If Japan let us through now? Three days."

"Three days!?"

Foster had laughed. "To hear the Marines at Okinawa talk about it, you'd think it would be three minutes."

Japan had assigned the American vehicles to a hangar on the far side of the airfield. They never let her approach that place, and even Dr. Dawson was only allowed there under careful supervision. Today, however, was a special occasion. The Americans had driven one of their giant HML machines out onto the field by the end of the runway. This, to Greta, was one of the clearer examples of how advanced the American military must be-just one of these machines was larger than three or four of the Japanese tanks, and the USAF had brought three of them.

Carol, who was standing by the machine, waved her over and Greta carefully approached. Even out of the hangar, the HML was surrounded by airmen and their Humvee vehicles. These would be the 794th Security Forces Squadron, led by Lt. Garcia, who gave her a smirking grin and half-wave as she passed. Of the two Security Squadron leaders, she liked Garcia more-the man had an interesting accent and usually addressed her kindly, even when correcting her for getting too close to the hangers. In comparison, Captain Hines of the 94th was colder, businesslike, and didn't have the same command of Japanese that members from the 794th did when he addressed her.

Finally, by the machine and Carol was Colonel Mullan himself. The man was cordial, polite, but was more likely to give complete answers to Carol than her. And it was always "Ms. Sareteian" never "Greta," as Carol or Takagi called her. As such his greeting was, "Hello Ms. Sareteian. Is the dress new?"

Indeed, Greta had finally been able to swap out her beat-up old one with a new light blue one, but she had waited to wear it for a special occasion, and today was a special occasion.

"It is! I wanted to look my best for the launch today!"

Carol was looking up the sky though and said, "Has the latest weather balloon data come in? I don't want ionization messing us up today."

"No need." Mullan rapped his knuckles on the side of the HML and said, "This isn't one of your Atlas launchers, Dr. Dawson. Midgetman's designed to launch in the middle of hurricanes and blizzards. True, the view wouldn't be as nice, but the rocket would still work."

That was interesting. Greta had noticed that the USAF and JSDF were less inclined to fly things during a thunderstorm, but if Mullan said it was possible, she wasn't about to doubt him. He had refused to allow her to see the rocket, but had assured her that it was a three-stage vehicle, similar to one that Carol had launched before an audience two days before. "If you say so," Carol said. "Have the modifications to the vehicle been tested? Do the cameras work? They're going to be really important in selling the next launch to the locals."

"They're fine, Dr. Dawson. Leave everything to me… and I believe that you have some set up plans on a hill by here?"

"Oh yes," she pointed beyond the airfield. "Over there. Greta and I picked it out yesterday."

"Good. My men and I still have a few more things to go through, so if you and Greta could get the stuff for the civilians set up, we can launch by 1830."

Thus dismissed they met up with Foster and Schumer and started back towards the buildings by the Japanese motor pool, where Takagi would be waiting. As they walked, Carol asked, "Well, Greta, are you ready for your first _real_ rocket launch?"

"Certainly, but you said yesterday that Midgetman wasn't a 'real' space rocket."

Of course, like a proper academic, Dr. Dawson was particular about her subject of interest. For her, a proper space rocket had to travel to "Orbit" but, like the airmen, she had yet to explain where, precisely, Orbit was. "It's an advanced concept," she had said when asked. "I'd like to do a successful sub-orbital launch or two before trying to tell people about it."

As they walk, Carol's eyes drifted down to Greta's skirts. "Were you praying this morning? You've still got grass on you."

"Oh!" Greta exclaimed and went to brush it off. "Yes, I was, but as I was finishing up a Hawk flew over and I lost track of what I was doing."

"They _do_ grab your attention, don't they? Did La have anything to say today?"

Greta shook her head. Just as she was still trying to fully grasp the fundamentals of rocketry, Carol was still struggling to grasp how the Gods of Falmart functioned. "She had nothing to say, but hopefully I will learn something of your world from today's launch."

Carol seemed to believe that the Gods of Falmart could talk directly to people through some kind of thought-speak, but this seemed to be based on how Gods of Earth worked… or how Carol seemed to think they worked. This was another place where the airmen had yet to provide her with a clear answer. She couldn't tell if Earth had many gods who all did the same thing, or one god who had many different names. Some claimed that Earth had no gods at all. With such confusion, it was somewhat more understandable that her mentor could be so easily mixed up about what Falmart's deities could and couldn't do.

"Greta?"

"Hmm?"

"I realized the other night, your middle name is La. Are the two related?"

This was a fine example. For all her knowledge on rocketry, Carol was ignorant of something that most local youngsters knew. "In Falmart, we affiliate ourselves with a patron god or goddess who is most closely tied to what we value," Greta explained. "As a way of displaying this to others, we include the shortened mark of that god or goddess within our names. I am a follower of La, but there is no way to shorten La, so La becomes the symbol in my name. Someone who follows La's twin, Elange, may include El instead. Other names follow a similar style, like Haa for Hardy, Ro for Emroy, and so on."

Schumer surprised Greta by asking, "Why would someone pick Elange over La?"

Usually the airman left most of the talking to Foster, but it was a reasonable question. "La is the goddess of study and wisdom, and governs one's ability to learn new things. Elange is the god of knowledge, and governs one's ability to retain and recall what one already knows. It is more common to see a student as a follower of La, and a master or one who has studied for a long time as a follower of Elange. Why?"

The airman's reply was simple and direct. "Zorzal El Caesar."

In truth, with the JSDF mostly operating out of Italica and the strong security presence at Alnus, the war had felt very distant to Greta for some weeks now, very different from the day she had fled the mercenaries with her sister. Still, the JSDF Phantoms came and went, and the various helicopters and truck convoys came and went as they rushed supplies to the front lines. It was good to be reminded that Zorzal was still out there, and that he might try to sack everything at Alnus if the situation ever presented itself.

She thought back over her books before replying, "Elange can apply to any kind of knowledge, even military knowledge. Many leaders in the past have taken up Elange's symbol in hopes of being granted aid in governing. Zuftmuut, God of Light, and Duncan, God of Smithing, are also common, the first for the connection to order, the second in connection to building and forging. Pina Co Lada, for instance, is a follower of Duncan. It shows in her personality too; building the Rose Order Nights where there was no such group before, and forging a relationship to Itami and the JSDF, even as her brother wished to keep fighting them."

"Makes sense," Foster said, "Except for one thing. Zorzal's a doofus. If that guy's knowledgeable, then I must be a fucking brain surgeon."

Greta shrugged. "Just because a person has collected and recalls a great deal of knowledge, does not mean they know how to use that knowledge intelligently. I think that it's fair to say that the technology of the JSDF and USAF goes against all that the people of the Empire knew before."

Minutes later, Takagi pulled up to them in one of the JSDF Toyota HMVs and they proceeded with the day's plans...setup on the hill, a quick lunch, one last promotional event at the amphitheater, a fast dinner, and away they went for their big ceremony.

It appeared like much of the Alnus Settlement had emptied out onto the hill beyond the airfield. Greta estimated an audience of at least a hundred families, if not more. Some JSDF personnel had come as well, both to defend the civilians and to enjoy the show.

"Before we begin," Carol said, addressing her audience, "I would like to take a moment to award the winner of yesterday's rocket building contest. Is Lister here?"

A young werewolf near the back of the audience piped up with, "here," and approached the prefabricated stage, where he eagerly accepted the small bag of Denaris and a round of applause from most of the people present. As he made his way back to the spot, he glanced back at Greta, and gave her a wink.

This was another interesting story, for two reasons.

The first reason was the parameters of the contest itself-Carol had initially been about to set the age range for the contest at 14 and below, and Greta had excitedly declared, "So I can compete!?"

After some confused looks (and Foster nearly choking on an MRE), she had offered this explanation:

 _Each race in Falmart ages and matures at different rates. Some are long-lived, like the Elves and Draconians, who live for hundreds of years but are slow to mature. Others, like my people or the old Warrior Bunny tribes, mature quickly but live shorter lives. So I may be fourteen in seasonal years, but, if I remember my learnings correctly, that translates to twenty in human growth years, or two hundred in elf growth years. Why, is that a problem?_

Carol had then amended the rules to apply correctly to each race, Foster had muttered about 'warning some of the guys', and Takagi, with a wry grin, remarked, "I will _gladly_ inform Yanagida-san the next time I see him."

The second reason had to do with her need to prove herself anyway. Her sister, Teesa, would have scoffed at her pursuit of the prize, but upon finding Lister's family half-starving in a room that they shared with two other groups, Greta knew what she had to do. One afternoon, she had sneaked the young werewolf over to the airfield's edge to get a closer look at the Phantoms… or, more specifically, the Phantom's wings. Between Carol's model rockets and staring at the planes and helicopter rotors, she had theorized that the rounded leading edge and tapered trailing edge of the fins aided the American-built vehicles in flight. Lister concurred, and the wing design for his model rocket had propelled the vehicle an easy twenty feet beyond the next-best competitor.

With the setting sun before them and the base lights starting to turn on behind them, Greta looked towards the spot by the airfield where the USAF had finished deploying the HML. The angular front part had completely detached itself from the trailer, which was in the process of doing something remarkable. A long boxy section was rising up from the rear section, rotating to vertical as if it was on some giant hinge. Within a few seconds, it was pointing directly up at the blackening orange sky.

Carol checked her watch and said, "Okay, we are one minute away from launch. Right now the airmen on the ground are finishing their pre-flight checks. When they're ready, they will close an electric circuit, sort of like the one that we used for the model rockets, and the rocket will start. If all goes well, we'll be recovering the nose cone of the rocket tonight and have some wonderful pictures from space by tomorrow evening."

The scientist looked up at Schumer for confirmation and, after listening to his radio for a moment, he first held up one fingers, then all five, and finished by pointing down at the ground. _Now._

"Okay everyone, count down with me! Ten, nine, eight…"

Greta was no longer giving attention to the scene, completely absorbed by the launcher on the field below. "Three, two, one-"

The boxy canister burst open at the end and a black and orange rocket flew a few feet into the air where it seemed to hang for a fraction of a second. In that moment, Greta thought, _this never happened with the model rockets! Did it fail, or—_

And then the first stage ignited with a jet of flame to put even dragons to shame, followed by the noise.

Greta had never heard anything like it, not from the Earthquake that had struck Falmart over a month ago, not from the Phantoms while flying low with their engines alight, not from the strongest spell caster or biggest army she had ever seen. The noise of the rocket rising on its pillar of fire was an endless thunder that seemed to force its way through her ears and bones and teeth.

Even as she grasped her ears to protect them, she followed the trajectory of the rocket as it continued up, ever and ever higher, far past the furthest of the model rockets or the fighter jets. While Carol had spoken of it fondly, this was the first evidence of a new truth; a rocket like this could _easily_ make it to a space beyond the sky. Even as the tower of smoke began to dissipate and the rocket dwindled to just another star in the early evening sky, Greta knew that she hadn't just witnessed a rocket launch, but a whole world opening up.

What secrets would it find there? What if their world was about to change?

No, it was too late, their world had _already_ changed.

Not knowing what else to do, she dropped to her knees, faced into the wind, and prayed.

 _Open my mind to those who wish to teach_

 _And show me ways to grow from what I learn._

She would not be the only one that night. At the noise, hundreds of people in the Alnus settlement poked their heads out of their windows and doors, pointed up into the sky from the streets and balconies and squares, and desperately scrambled to make sense of the new phenomenon.

* * *

 **Formal Manor, Italica**

Tuka Luna Marceau pointed a slender finger at the horizon and said, "Right there." The elf-girl had been waiting on the mansion's southern balcony for the first stars to appear and was the first to notice the oddity crawling up into the sky from the Southeast.

Next to her, Lelei La Lalena raised a pair of pilfered binoculars to her big aquamarine eyes, then adjusted the focus until the strange object came into view "I see it," she said.

"It's not a shooting star, is it?"

The young magician lowered the binoculars. "No."

"Then what is it?"

"A machine."

"A machine?" Tuka's eyes widened. "Can you see it with the binoculars?"

Lelei shook her head.

"Then how can you tell?"

She pointed with her magic staff. "Alnus is in that direction. The way the fire and smoke comes out of it makes it seem made, instead of natural."

Tuka turned to the shadows behind her. "What do you think, Rory?"

Rory Mercury, Apostle of Emory and slayer of hundreds was leaning against the mansion's outer wall. "Hmmmm?" She said. "If it truly is from Alnus, then you _know_ who you should be asking."

Tuka brightened immediately. "You're right, we should ask Itami!" she said, and rushed back inside the manor. Lelei gave Rory a curt nod and followed after the elf.

Yet, the Apostle did not follow them. Instead, she hopped onto the railing that Tuka had been leaning against moments before and continued to follow the curious object on its ascent.

* * *

 **Falmart Astronomy Academy, Rondel**

"It has to be," Flat El Coda said to his colleagues. "Alnus Hill is in that direction, and no meteor in our recorded history has lasted this long. Even now, it's still climbing!"

"A machine? Impossible," Nariv El Delsus spat, though his eye was still pressed to the lens of his own scope as he followed the object into the sky.

They were part of a small group of Astronomers who had been assembled on the academy roof that evening to perform their regular inventory of the skies, which had been mercifully clear thus far. Flat had been sweeping the Southeast sky for new phenomena when the fiery spark had appeared above the pains and started to climb. He had immediately called attention to it, and the debate started soon after.

The Astronomy Director of the Rondel Council, a grizzled old man named Alron El Tarinium shook his head. "The Men in Green are capable of forging and forming large metal panels into carts that pull themselves. It is not impossible for them to have created such a device, Nariv, though we will not know with any certainty unless we go to observe ourselves."

The man straightened and added, "I think that it is time that the Council visits Alnus."

"Excellent, most excellent!" Flat crowed, nearly knocking his telescope off the roof. "My sister-in-law knows an officer amongst the Men in Green. I'll have Alfie send a messenger-bird immediately-"

"Hold on," Delsus stated. "The Council has already discussed at length the fact that Rondel must not appear to take sides in the Civil War, lest our libraries and schools become a target for sacking by either force."

Flat countered with "Ridiculous! Even if Zorzal had a legitimate claim to the throne-and the ceremony at Italica suggests that he does not-he wouldn't stand a chance against the JSDF."

"Our neutrality keeps us _safe_ ," Delsus insisted. "It is an act of desecration of Elange to willingly permit amassed knowledge to become lost. You would dare, Flat, to risk the studies of so many others over a presumption that the JSDF would be more respectful of us than Zorzal?"

"But Itami-"

"You cannot assume the morals of a nation from one man!"

Tarinium cleared his throat, regaining the attention of the two researchers. "The Council shall go to Alnus as a party of neutral observers. Our focus will be on technology and the Men in Green's advances in natural philosophy, but we will not change our position regarding the war."

"They will try to convince us otherwise," Delsus pointed out.

"And so we shall refuse them. Flat, there is no need to send for your fiancée. We will deliver a letter by wyvern-rider immediately."

* * *

 **Formal Manor, Italica**

"You aren't coming back in?" Tuka asked the Apostle.

Rory hadn't moved from her perch. She glanced back at the elf and said, "You go on. Tell Itami that I expect him to save space for me."

Tuka huffed, and departed, but Rory still didn't follow. Instead, she continued her watch. The spark from Alnus had disappeared into the night sky nearly half an hour before, but she continued to watch anyway.

Below her, the first lights in Italica were starting to vanish for the evening as the city's people went to bed. It was unlikely that they knew that Rory the Reaper was watching over them, nor was it likely that they had noticed the moving star from Alnus. And yet, Rory had known. Rory had _felt_ something from that direction as the strange object rose into the sky. It was the same feeling she felt as horsemen charged, or a trebuchet swung into motion, or the shell left the mouth of a JSDF mortar-weapon. Even though she could no longer see the source, the feeling persisted in her gut. She simply needed to see one more thing to confirm her suspicions.

As if in answer to her call, a shooting star appeared above her… yet, unlike a normal shooting star, this one did not have a tail and it seemed to glow brighter, ever brighter as it dropped through the air. She followed it on its path back down until it faded and disappeared beyond the treetops of a forest to the southwest.

Rory smiled, straightened her dress, and slipped back into the manor, "Oh," she whispered to herself, "now this _will_ be interesting…"


	6. Chapter 6: Internal Power

**Chapter 6: Internal Power**

 **Three Hundred Miles West of Alnus Hill**

"Positive signal fix, we'll be on-site in fifteen minutes," the helicopter pilot announced as the HH-60G Pave Hawk took a hard bank to the south.

Captain Hines was used to this, having done similar operations many times before. He keyed his communications set and repeated to his squad. "I want it like we practiced," he said. "In and out in no more than ten."

Officially, the agreement with Japan prevented American service members from leaving the base for any reason other than rocket component recovery, but it did not specify anything about the background of the units themselves.

The members of the 94th Security Forces Squadron were not assembled from a background of Security Forces personnel. Rather, the men and women present were on loan from a more selective group of Pararescuemen and Combat Controllers.

Specifically, the 24th. Special Tactics Squadron.

Everyone on that helicopter had seen combat at one time or another, and Hines had worked personally with at least a quarter of them in Iraq.

Some of them, he thought with a smirk, had even worked with NASA in recovering splashed-down test capsules like Orion.

That evening's mission was similar, in some respects, but did not require the Navy to help them collect their cargo.

"Thermal contacts," the copilot announced. "looks like livestock. We're going to land within sight of the target, drop you off, and orbit until you're ready to go."

Hines nodded and waited as the Hawk drifted down to the plans below with two bumps as the rear and then front wheels made contact with the ground. The airmen clambered out of the aircraft and dropped to the ground once clear of the rotors, rifles out and ready for anything to come at them. Others might have thought this silly in a region where the opposing force's primary armament consisted of short swords, but Hines wasn't about to take any chances from some long-range archer or whatever Magical crap seemed to exist in this place.

The noise from the helicopter increased as it pulled itself back into the sky, then quieted down as it rose to a safe observing altitude.

Two of the Pararescuemen moved to a crouching position, swept the plain, and announced "Clear!" before the rest of them sat up enough to see over the thick grass. They had clear lines of sight in all directions, and Hines could see the animals that the copilot had mentioned earlier; large bison-like creatures that had scattered at the helicopters' noise and downwash. "Captain, these are SR Ma-Nugas," one of the airmen whispered into his radio set. "Grass-eaters. 'bout as dangerous as cows are Stateside."

"Right. Give 'em their space," Hines said, then made his way over to Combat Controller TSgt. Brooks, who was still speaking with the helicopter pilots over his larger backpack transmitter. The CCT pointed, and the group settled into a typical squad column formation as they made their way over to their objective.

When they finally arrived, they were standing at the edges of a crater a good six feet deep and dozen feet wide. At its bottom was what they had come to recover: a W87 reentry vehicle. As they had practiced before deploying to the Special Region, half of the airmen moved out and into a defensive perimeter, while the remaining Pararescuemen switched their rifles for entrenching tools and began digging the warhead out of the ground.

Of course, warhead was a misnomer by that point. It would have only been dangerous to something standing directly underneath it as it landed, and nobody else. The W87 that had been launched on the Midgetman rocket about an hour earlier was a 'dummy' warhead of the sort that the Air Force regularly used to test Midgetman's heftier cousin, the LGM-30G "Minuteman III", which, unlike the MGM-134, was in active service. In other words, in place of a thermonuclear weapon, it held diagnostic testbeds and scientific instruments which could be used to evaluate the missile's and warhead's performances in flight. Between the thermal protection and hardened hull, the dummy-warhead was more than robust enough to survive the plunge back through the atmosphere and, eventually, into the ground. Even at a glance, Hines could see the lit LEDs of some active instruments glowing from the sky-facing rear of the device.

"Contact," one of the perimeter airmen called. "Human or humanoid, approaching from North-northeast."

"How many?" Hines asked.

"Just the one."

Hines pulled a pair of night-vision binoculars from his vest and sighted the intruder. It was a small figure, toting a large hook-ended cane on one shoulder. Could be a civilian, could be an enemy magician. _Must've been sleeping next to one of the Ma-Nugas, which hid them on the thermal cam,_ Hines rationalized. Whomever they were, they were still about a kilometer out, and not an immediate threat.

Still…

"We've got it clear," one of the Pararescuemen called, and together they hauled the two-foot by five-foot cone from its hole. Next to Hines, CCT Brooks nodded and uttered another rapid-fire request into his microphone.

Seconds later, the Pave Hawk roared into place above their heads and began its second vertical descent, touching down nearby. Together, the airmen hauled the dummy-device into the helicopter's payload space, then some of them climbed aboard after it. Once the payload was on its way, Hines had the Combat Controller call in the remaining Hawk to pick the rest of them up.

The airmen keeping track of their mysterious follower piped up, stating, "They're picking up speed, and they'll be on us in a minute or two. Orders?"

Hines pointed at two of the airmen. "Jones, whoever it is, scare them off. Don't want any locals approaching the Hawk as it comes down. Williams, circle around to the side and cover him. Rest of us will hold at this site and support as needed."

The Special Forces operators nodded and made their way towards the mysterious figure. Within a few meters, Jones stated, "From what I can pick out of my NVGs, looks like a twelve-year-old boy. A shepherd, I think. Mind if I go say hello?"

"Use your discretion and keep far enough that Williams can step in as needed."

The Captain watched as Jones quickly closed the distance. He could only imagine what this must have looked like from the boy's perspective; the man in the dark armor, clutching his strange weapon, sprinting in his direction and starting him down with the four green, glowing eyes of his night-vision goggles. Furthermore, Master Sergeant Jones was a tall man, probably twice as tall as the shepherd across from him.

The boy skidded to a halt, then backpedaled a few steps as the Pararescuemen stopped before him. As Hines watched, Jones leaned over so that he was eye to eye with the kid, who was now shaking in terror at the strange man-like monster that said only one word.

" _Boo!_ "

The boy let out a shrill cry, dropped his staff, and sprinted in the opposite direction. "They're on the run," Jones said. "Want me to pursue?"

"Nope. Kid's probably pissed himself already. Return to the LZ." Hines lowered his binoculars and sighted the remaining helicopter making its way in for landing. Their job was almost over. It was only a matter of transporting the W87 back to the operations personnel on base, and they would be 'free' until the next launch.

And the best part? They had yet to fire a shot, or have a single shot fired at them.

He took a deep breath of clear, cool night air and couldn't help but think, _I'll take this over Iraq any day._

* * *

 **Alnus FOB, Alnus**

"I think they liked it," Carol said, as she sat in Colonel Mullan's office early the next morning. She had told Greta to sleep in that morning while the Air Force finished extracting data from the returned nose cone, and Mullan had decided to open with a question about the audience.

"You think?"

"It's a bit of a step up from model rockets to one of the big ones," Carol explained. "I think most of them were alarmed by the noise at first, but by the time that the rocket was out of hearing range I had a lot of them come up to me and excitedly ask when we were planning on the next one. Speaking of which, what _is_ the launch schedule for the remaining rockets?"

Mullan leaned back in his chair, thought for a moment, then said. "We're sending HML-1 back through the Gate now that it's empty. The rocket on HML-2 experienced a guidance fault during testing...we scrambled to modernize, but you need to understand that we're still using a lot of the old RCA circuit boards. The fact that we're relying on inertial and gyroscopic estimation over GPS doesn't help things. This leaves us with the vehicle on HML-3, which should be good to go once we get the data back from the last flight.

"After that?" he shrugged. "The Japanese have already started construction on a concrete pad for Epsilon, and I've heard that NASA admin Kosinski is in talks with Defense Secretary Clayton about what kind of LV we should send through next… if we should send one at all. If Epsilon and their mapping satellite get into the orbit they're looking for, we'd just be sticking around to protect HML-2 and do odd jobs."

"You couldn't just go back home?"

The man shrugged. "We cannot drive the rocket on HML-2 back through the Gate, as that would violate our agreement with the Russians and Chinese. We also sure as heck won't have an easy time fixing it here. This means that there will be a USAF presence here until either that rocket flies, or we are forced to abandon it in-place. From what I've heard, the brass would rather not leave an otherwise-functional rocket with the Japanese, even an old one."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. The weather's nice, the locals are decent, and the Opposing Force hasn't invented gunpowder yet. Any better, and we might as well be on vacation."

"Oh," Carol said. "That reminds me. I was talking to Greta about her family, and I was wondering if—"

Before she could finish, the door to their room burst open and General Hazama rushed in, followed by his aides and clutching a parchment envelope. "Colonel Mullan, this is quite urgent. I need to know how soon you can launch again."

Mullan and Carol exchanged a glance before the Colonel said, "Just to confirm, Dr. Dawson _can_ hear everything you're about to say. Is that okay?"

"Yes, yes, she's fine," Hazama said. "The important thing is that our force elements at Italica intercepted a wyvern-rider carrying this letter just after sunrise this morning."

He unfolded a piece of printed paper and said, "The translation reads as follows:

"Esteemed members of the JSDF."

"I would like to introduce myself. I am Alron El Tarinium, and your experiment, test or mission from yesterday night was visible from our rooftops and caught our interest. Since your arrival, we have been curious about the nature of Japanese advancement in natural philosophy, and we were hoping to observe some of your marvels for ourselves.

"Please indicate your availability at your earliest possible convenience.

"And then he presents his signature, along with a wax seal," Hazama concluded. "The exiled Senators at Italica claim that the seal is authentic, and that this letter came from a member of the Rondel Council."

"Rondel Council?" Colonel Mullan said, leaping to his feet, "So we have an actual chance-"

"I'm sorry," Carol interrupted. "I'm out of the loop here. Why is Rondel so important?"

Mullan walked over to a map of the region pinned to his wall. "Aside from Alnus, there are three critical cities on the southern side of the Dumas Mountain range," he explained, pointing to them on the map. "They are Italica, Rondel, and Bellnahgo. Italica is already on our side and commands the mountain passes at Beza and Marias. Bellnahgo is a religious site that heavily taxes users of the mountain pass that it commands. If you wanted to take an army across the Dumas mountains, that leaves you with three options: Brave the Western Desert and a second mountain range, funnel your troops along or across the Blue Sea to the East, or move them down the pass created by the Row Stream to here—Rondel."

He pointed a finger back at Rondel. "Rondel is a city run by academics, and while they have maintained a neutral stance through the war so far, the nature of this neutrality means that Zorzal's Intel guys still have open access to the libraries there. We're talking magic, alchemy, all the serious things that the Empire could actually use as a serious threat to Pina's coalition."

"There is also the fact of the magicians themselves," Hazama added. "Every one is potentially a deployable weapon on the scale of our LAVs. One humanoid we captured at Italica, Myuute Luna Sires, could produce deflective barriers out of the air. Another magician, thankfully on our side, has demonstrated the ability to produce significant explosive attacks. Preliminarily testing has led us to believe that these explosive effects could be further magnified enough to become a threat to our tanks and aircraft. If Rondel remains neutral, some of these magicians may be convinced to join Zorzal's army. If we can turn Rondel to our side, this cuts off Zorzal from valuable intelligence, raises the potential of adding magicians to our own forces, and secures our dominance of the land on this side of the Dumas range. Any army that Zorzal tries to send after that would need to either secure a fleet of ships to the east, risk moving along the exposed coast, or funnel through the mountain passes at Marias and Beza. In all of these cases, they would come under concentrated fire from our aircraft and artillery."

"Basically, if we can convince the Rondel Council that we are worth listening to, we've cut Zorzal's options down to Stalemate or Lose." Mullan said. "And in that sense, yes. Yes, we can absolutely get HML-3 ready for a launch in two or three days. Carol, can your folks with NASA PR get enough fancy graphics and videos together to pull off the social end?"

Carol was shocked, but not surprised. NASA had a longstanding history of being used to subtlety influence other nations. Much of the reasoning behind Russia's inclusion in the ISS, she'd heard, was to prevent their rocket scientists from seeking other employment in China, Pakistan, Iran, or, heaven forbid, North Korea.

"Takagi, Greta and I are going to wind up having a few late nights translating media from English to Japanese and Imperial, but I think that we can pull it off."

"One more thing," Hazama said, "Princess Pina will be sending some of her representatives here to try and push negotiations with the Rondel Council. Give them a nice show, but otherwise please leave them alone."

Mullan nodded. "We can do that."

"Itami and his group will be with them."

Carol similarly smiled and nodded. She had heard good things about Itami from many of the JSDF soldiers and natives. Greta had never met him personally, but had described him as, "Well liked and admired, especially for his actions against the Flame Dragon and facing down Zorzal not once, but twice."

Mullan grabbed her attention by folding his arms stating, "No. Absolutely not."

"You have something wrong with the Lieutenant, Colonel?"

"As a representative of the United States, I do indeed have something _very_ wrong with Itami, General Hazama."

"And what would that be?"

" _Hakone._ "

Carol looked back and forth between the two military officers. She had never seen either of them this serious before; Mullan with his mouth set in a firm line, Hazama giving the plastic, cold smile of a Japanese businessman. She broke the silence with, "What's Hakone?"

Hazama turned the dead smile on her. "It would be best, Dr. Dawson, if you left the room and allowed Colonel Mullan and I to discuss the matter privately."

She looked to Mullan for support, but instead he met her with a cold stare and pointed her in the direction of the door.

Takagi was waiting for her outside. "Did General Hazama have anything interesting to say?" She asked.

"Yeah, sounds like we're going to be busy for a while. Lots of VIPs will be here soon, and we need to be ready with both a launch and some general entertainment stuff by then."

Takagi nodded. "I can get you priority bandwidth on the network for video downloads and media requests."

"There was something else," Carol said. "Mullan mentioned it in passing. Do you know what Hakone is?"

The Specialist stiffened. "No."

"You're a terrible liar, Takagi."

"My answer is no, and that is final."

Later, when alone with Foster and Schumer, she asked them the same question.

"Never heard of it," Foster said, but at least he seemed more honest about it than Takagi had been.

"Neither have I," Schumer said, "But if Mullan doesn't want to talk about it, it's probably for OpSec reasons."

"OpSec?"

"Operations Security. Whatever Hakone is, there's a reason that only the Colonel knows about it."

"It sounded like it was something about Lieutenant Itami," Carol wondered aloud. "Do you think that something happened—"

"Look, lady," Foster said, holding out a hand to stop her. "This isn't Harry Fucking Potter. You don't get awarded points for solving the mystery. The General wants you to drop it, the Colonel wants you to drop it, and Takagi wants you to drop it, so _drop it_."

Carol didn't like any of this. Wanting a space program in the Special Region, strange as it had seemed at first, made more sense now that she was on the ground and hearing about the tactical situation. Wanting to keep information about the HMLs and Midgetman away from her also made sense—it was ballistic missile technology, after all. Carol worked with enough foreign nationals, including Russian rocket engineers, who did not need to know that information, even if the technology was becoming increasingly dated. But now a point of contention between Japan and America? And Hakone was a Japanese name, so either the Japanese had been responsible, it had happened on Japanese soil, or it was a Japanese code name for an operation. Itami had been involved somehow too, so—

"I can see those gears turning," Foster growled. "Drop it."

"S-sorry," Carol said, shaking her head to dispel the line of thought. Regardless of what happened at Hakone, she still had a job to do. That job now involved condensing a lesson on modern rocketry and orbital mechanics into a lecture digestible by people with a 16th-century education…and any of the misconceptions that were sure to come with it.

* * *

 **Alnus Settlement, Alnus**

"But _when_ is later?" Lister asked, his muzzle dropping into a frown.

Greta had been sent to deliver the bad news to the Alnus Settlement. "Two days, three at most." Greta said. "Dr. Dawson wanted to be here to apologize in person, but she is busy preparing for the members of the Senate and Rondell Council. In addition to another rocket launch, they will be showing the pictures from the rocket launched yesterday night."

There was some grumbling from the assembly, and Greta couldn't blame them. Carol had told the audience that she would have the pictures _today_ , and instead they were being pushed away to make room for the aristocracy. One draconian towards the back asked, "Why? Are we not worthwhile?"

"You are," Greta insisted. "But the moving pictures that Dr. Dawson and Sergeant First Class Takagi are working on are complicated to make, and must be translated from their languages into ours."

Thus, concluded, she meekly made her way off the amphitheater stage where she settled onto a wall next to a pair of JSDF guards. She wanted to stick around for whatever other questions the audience members might want to ask afterwards.

There was one more person scheduled to take the stage that afternoon, and Greta saw with dismay that it was the Follower of Hardy. Usually the man would make his rant before Carol gave her usual performance but now, freed up from interference, the man could run his mouth to his own content.

"See how the Americans and Japanese hide themselves in shame!" he crowed. "Surely this is a sign that they have angered the Gods in some way. To shake the ground, blast such noise, and pierce the sky so violently is a desecration of Hardy, Lunaryur, and Flare all at once. And look at how they abandon you, you who lost everything to war and came here seeking peace, only to live under the auspices of such insanity. Know this! All are equal in the eyes of Hardy, and those who turn from the Gods will meet a terrible fate."

Greta couldn't listen to any more of this. If the Gods truly disliked what was occurring, why hadn't they acted? Where was Hardy's apostle, Giselle? Why had Emroy's apostle, Rory, sided so easily with the JSDF?

 _The last one's easy,_ a part of her own mind whispered back to her. _Emroy is the bringer of darkness. He LIKES the violence that the JSDF brings to this world._

No, no that couldn't be right… such a God wouldn't approve of the JSDF and their 'Humanitarian' agents, their Geneva Convention kindness towards enemies, and he certainly wouldn't approve of Carol Dawson and her relatively harmless views on natural philosophy. Would La really lead her to wisdom at the expense of good? "Let's go," she whispered to the JSDF guards and together they began to leave.

"You cannot hide from Hardy," the man on the stage shouted after her. "You cannot escape the Land Below."

* * *

 **Formal Manor, Italica**

1st Lieutenant Itami Youji had always prided himself in avoiding conflict where possible, or for discovering round-about ways to make someone else handle a conflict for him. Sometimes, however, the brass discovered a way to force him into a conflict that he could not avoid. This was one of those days.

The manor was dark at that time of the night. There had been talks of wiring the manor with electric lights, but with most of the JSDF's vehicles and aircraft dedicated to the fight against Zorzal, luxuries like electricity did not extend beyond the JSDF command posts. Still, oil lamps on the walls or the flashlight in his hand were enough to dispel much of the darkness, and allowed Itami to see Pina long before she saw him.

The red-haired princess was leaning against the wall in her nightgown as she looking up at a large oil painting across the hall. It showed Imperial soldiers forcing some other army back into the sea. Even in the dim lighting, Itami could see both the pain and rage of the soldiers in the picture, and the exhaustion on Pina's face.

"Looks like a rough campaign." Itami said.

Pina jumped at his sudden appearance, but eventually settled down and with a smile said, "One of the hardest. It had a happy ending, at least."

"Oh? Tell me about it."

Pina took a few steps closer to the painting and began her tale. "About two and a half centuries ago, the Empire fought a bitter campaign that my people call the Arctic War… not for the temperature, but because of how cold and harsh it was on our people. At the time we were fighting against the Careth Kingdom, which hailed from a large continent to our Southwest.

"They were a terrifying force, butchering entire towns and cities as they went. At the battle of Akuteku, sixty thousand Imperial soldiers were cut down by the Careth army. Until the war with Japan, this had been the largest defeat in Imperial history.

"We are… taught that the Imperial Senate refused to surrender. The Imperial people rallied around them and, four years and thousands of deaths later, the Empire finally pushed Careth out of Falmart."

Pina sighed and said, "Children of the Empire are taught that this bone-headedness is a virtue, and it's a large part of why much of the original Senate continues to side with Zorzal, even as the JSDF rains destruction down on their sons. I am terrified that this war will end with half of the Empire treading the path to Hardy in the Land Below."

Itami gave a grave nod. "Japan used to be like that too."

"What changed?"

Itami almost told her. Two million soldiers dead. Ancient cities firebombed. Hiroshima, Nagasaki… but Pina didn't need to know that. _Particularly_ , not before hearing the news that he had to deliver.

"I wanted to talk with you about something else," Itami said. "The bright light that the other girls saw flying from Alnus hill last night? That was a rocket."

"A rocket?"

"Do you remember at the Battle of Italica how some helicopters threw tubes that spat smoke and landed with a big explosion? It's like that, but much bigger, and pointed at the sky instead of people. We usually launch them to study things up there."

Pina nodded. "It would make sense that Japan would have such a machine."

"It's not ours."

Her eyes widened at that one. The Empire didn't know much about Earth beyond Japan, except for one instance…

"Then who does it belong to?" she asked.

"The United States of America."

She frowned. "The name sounds familiar."

"It should. They were one of three nations that tried to kidnap you at the resort in Hakone."

The Princess brought up a hand to her mouth in shock, took a few steps back and slumped against the wall. "Were… was the JSDF overrun?" she asked.

"No."

"Then what are they doing at Alnus Hill!?"

Itami scratched the back of his head. "Technically, they are our allies."

"Nations who attack you in the night are not allies!"

"I don't know myself," Itami said. "I tried to talk to Yanagida about it, but he claims that it is part of a research program. He doesn't trust them and neither do I."

"So what will you do?"

The soldier shrugged. "What can I do? Smile, wave, and hope that I find out what's going on."

"Do you plan on telling the others?"

"I would prefer not to, especially not you-know-who."

"Lelei may be young, and Tuka may be naive, but I imagine that an apostle of Emroy will see right through you."

"I can keep a secret, you know."

"If only you had a secret to keep!" whispered a voice in his ear.

Itami whirled around and had his sidearm halfway out of its holster before Rory sprang from his back, over his head, and landed gently on the floor before him. She lifted her halberd from its place on the wall, twirled it around once in the air and placed the end firmly down on the carpet with a dull _thunk._

Itami glanced back over his shoulder at Pina and asked. "How long was she listening?"

"Long enough," Rory said with a pout. "Itami- _dono_ , does our friendship mean so little that you would tell that silly girl about the Americans before me?"

"I am a _woman_ , and I'm not silly," Pina countered.

Itami waved both off before turning his attention back to Rory. "Look, regardless of what happened, we can't attack the Americans. I've been told that they're here to help us. For now, our best bet is to watch and wait. And that means that we stay on our best behavior until the Americans give us a reason to do otherwise.

"Understood?" he said, leaning down so that he was eye level with Rory.

She gave him a too-large, unconvincing smile, a mock salute, and said "Yokai!"

"I'm serious about this."

"I will respond to the Americans as needed," Rory said. "And if they do anything stupid… well, I can only hope that they learned their lesson at Hakone. I would hate to fight another battle as _boring_ as that one."


	7. Chapter 7: Terminal Count

**Chapter 7: Terminal Count**

 **Later...**

 **Alnus FOB, Alnus**

Greta wasn't invited to the festivities either… at least, not until after the planned late-afternoon launch. The Rondel Council had all been transported in by helicopter (which, she had been told, had been met with trepidation at first, but ultimately was well-received) as had several representatives from Italica. They were at the end of the airfield together, gathered around one of the two remaining USAF HMLs which had been set into launch position.

When asked why she hadn't been invited, Carol had told her, "It's a matter of best foot forward. We want to be sure that everyone present can answer any technical questions that the Rondel Council has, whether about rockets, physics, or the United States. You're getting better, but for now you're most valuable as a translator. I need you rested and ready for the presentation tonight so that you can switch off with Takagi if necessary, since I'm anticipating a lot of questions."

But Greta couldn't wait that long so, instead, she strolled along the airfield in the direction of the JSDF hangars. One of the Phantoms was already away on patrol, and the other one sat on the tarmac, canopy open and waiting.

Naturally, JSDF guards politely waved her off before she got too close, but she wasn't planning on leaving. She backed up to an acceptable distance, sat down on the grass, and took time to properly inspect the vehicle once more.

Carol's rockets were easy, the explosion pushed them forward or up or in whichever direction they were pointed. The Phantom was different; it had a rocket-like pair of holes on the back, but would lift up into the sky, even though these rockets were positioned sideways, instead of up and down. The shape of the wing, when she tried it with Lister's rocket, only proved that the rounded leading edge and tapered trailing edge only improved the speed at which an object would move through the air, rather than lifting it. Unlike a bird, the wings didn't flap, so it wasn't pushing air down, so what made it stay up?

As she watched, one of the Japanese soldiers, clad in a curiously blue uniform, left the hangar and jogged over in her direction. He stopped by one of the JSDF guards, chatted with him for a while, then walked over to Greta. He had a lanky build and longer hair than she was used to seeing on any of the soldiers, and looked at her through wide sunglasses. "Hey, you're the girl always hanging around outside the fence," he said, kneeling down next to her. "Greta, right?"

She nodded.

He extended a hand. "Major Kamikoda. Pleased to meet you!"

The act of shaking hands was something she was still getting used to, but she took his hand anyway and said, "The pleasure is mine, Major. I'm surprised, I don't think that I've seen any members of the JSDF in a uniform like that."

He chuckled. "That's because the J _ **G**_ SDF doesn't wear uniforms like this. I'm with the J _ **A**_ SDF. G is for Ground, A is for Air. I'm more like one of those US Air Force people than most of these other people."

"But they don't wear this kind of uniform either."

"True, but I'm a pilot, and they aren't."

"Pilot?" She knew the term as it applied to ships and shipping. "Will Japan be running boats here too?"

He outright laughed at that. "No, no! I'm a _jet_ pilot!"

 _Oh!_ "You fly one of the Phantoms!?"

"Yes I do!"

"That's… that's amazing," Greta said, looking at the man with a newfound respect. There were only two airplanes flying in the Special Region, and this man flew one of them. "I have so many questions! How do you do it? How does it work?"

It is an instinctive reflex of pilots to tell other people that they are pilots, and to brag about what kind of aircraft they fly. Greta didn't know this, however, and for that moment at least, it was a match made in heaven. Kamikoda wanted to brag about his fighter jet, and Greta wanted to hear more about fighter jets. "Follow me and I'll show you!"

He took her closer, closer than she'd ever been, and she found herself surprised at once how much both larger and smaller it was up close. Larger because she had not anticipated how high it sat off the ground, and how long the aircraft was from nose to tail. Smaller in that she was shocked that _anyone_ could fit into a control space of the size she was witnessing.

"So an airplane is a little different than a rocket," Kamikoda said. "There are two things that let you tell a rocket and airplane apart. First, a rocket carries its own air with it and pushes it out the back in an explosion. An airplane…" he pointed to the big air intake on the Phantom's side. "An Airplane takes the air in front of it, and pulls it into a jet. Think of the spinning things on top of the helicopters. You know those, right? Now imagine if they were tinier, but a whole bunch of them were stacked up one on top of the other. Jets are kind of like that, they take the air out in front and push it out the back really, really, quickly."

He got a glimmer in his eye. "Of course, if you _really_ want to go fast, you dump rocket fuel into the back and burn it. If you use that, this plane moves so fast, it's on you before the sound of it coming ever reaches you!"

Greta could see that. Sometimes she would look up and notice the airplanes before she heard the sound, but often the plane was already very high above her, like a silver speck hidden in the blue. "And this keeps it up?" she asked.

"Ah, now that's something completely different." He pointed back to the wings. "These keep the plane up."

She gave him a confused look. "But they don't flap."

"You should see them in a storm! Really though, the secret is that we discovered that if you take this shape and throw it through the air at the right angle, it makes it so that there's more air pressure underneath the wing than above the wing. The pressure difference _pulls_ the plane up into the air." He reached into the cockpit and pulled out a piece of paper of the cockpit, put the edge up to his lips, and blew.

Geta was shocked when the piece of paper, originally limp, sprang up into a horizontal position, then fell back down once the air stopped. She looked from it, back to the plane's wings, to the paper again…

 _Of course!_ Suddenly, it all made sense. The airplane used the jets to get up to speed, and then the air moving over the wings did the rest. That was why they had the long runway. "The people who figured this out must have been brilliant."

Kamikoda shrugged. "Their names were Orville and Wilbur Wright, and they made bicycles for a living."

Greta thought about how the names sounded and asked, "Were they American?"

The Japanese pilot gave a grim smile. "Sure were. When it comes to flying things, America comes up with all the best toys. I hear that, in a few years, they'll sell Japan some of those F-35s they've been working on. I'd kill for an F-22 myself, but hey, fifth-gen _anything_ would be awesome."

Having no idea what half of those terms meant, Greta tried asking, "What's better about the F-22?"

At this, Kamikoda launched into an explanation that made her even more confused. If nothing else, it made her appreciate the simple explanations that Carol took time to prepare. From what she could understand, the airplane could turn invisible, had a complicated mechanical brain, included rocket engines that could be pointed mid-flight, and could move faster than thunder without using rocket power at all. "But the Americans would never sell them to us," he concluded. "The F-35 does most of that though, so that alone would be nice."

After a pause, Greta said, "F-22 must be the fastest airplane ever."

Kamikoda shook his head. "No, there are things that go faster still. In fact, since you like space so much… no, I almost forgot, they don't fly those anymore."

"What?"

He leaned back against the side of his plane and stared off into the sky. "For any pilot, it's always about going the highest and the fastest. But if you wanted to be the highest and fastest, there was only one plane… if you could call it that."

The pilot looked at her dead in the eye and said, "The Space Shuttle."

Greta smiled. "I think I know what you're talking about. I saw a picture while helping Carol prepare last night. It's an airplane attached to the side of a rocket, right?"

"You sure are!" He nodded. "It'd be a privilege to even ride on one of those things."

"You should speak to Colonel Mullan, maybe they'd let you!"

Kamikoda sighed. "It doesn't work like that. The only Japanese people who go into space are Engineers, like Dr. Dawson, or important scientists like Shirai- _hakase_. Even if you have those qualifications, they don't let everyone up because it's expensive."

"Expensive?" Greta hadn't thought much about how things must cost for the Japanese or Americans. She recalled Carol being surprised over the price of the books and asked for the price of the shuttle.

"Let's see…" he thought aloud, "It's 40,000 yen to one Sinku, right? So about a hundred yen to the dollar… or a little over that… hmmm…"

He tapped on the hull of his plane twice, then waved a finger in the air, seeming as if trying to carry the numbers around, then eventually said, "Hang on," reached back into the airplane and pulled out a compact device that looked like one of Carol's computers… except it had fewer buttons, the screen was tiny, and it only displayed certain symbols. After pressing several buttons, he declared, "Right. That's four-hundred and fifty million dollars, or twelve hundred-thousand Sinku."

Greta tried to grasp the amount of money involved, and couldn't do it. She simply couldn't. Ten Sinku could sustain the poorest families for a whole year. The price that Kamikoda had cited could probably feed every man, woman, and child in Italica. "S-surely they must get many launches f-from that," Greta stammered.

The pilot held up one finger.

"You're joking."

"No. And that's the other reason why I couldn't fly on a space shuttle. America stopped using them. Partially because they were so expensive, and partially because they had safety problems. They haven't sent _anyone_ into space for years."

This surprised Greta. With Carol's optimism, she'd thought that the Americans had been generally successful at rocket-flight. This was the first she was hearing of a problem. She would need to ask about it sometime.

She was also sorry to see Kamikoda's reaction too. The frustrated lines on his forehead, the way he looked away from her and back up at the sky. "Maybe, when they start flying again, it won't be as expensive!" Greta said, "We'll go up together!"

The pilot laughed. "Of course! And maybe they will promote me to Prime Minister!"

* * *

If one were to examine NASA personnel for long enough, they would begin to notice two 'uniforms'. One, reserved for Astronauts, was a blue jumpsuit based off of those traditionally issued to air force pilots. The other, was a far less involved combination of khaki pants and a black polo shirt with the NASA logo stamped prominently over the left breast. Today Carol Dawson was wearing the latter, and as a result she felt goofy standing next to Colonel Mullan who had broken out his service dress uniform and all the medals and campaign ribbons that went with it.

Fortunately, their guests didn't seem to mind. The members of the Rondel Council approached first and were quick to identify Carol as a fellow academic. "It's very rigorous," she explained when asked about her education. "Four years for the Bachelors, two years for the Masters, and eight years for my Doctorate."

"Oh, and what was your Doctoral Thesis about?"

"Astronavigation to the inner planets. It's a complex topic, and we'll be discussing it a little during the presentation after the launch tonight." The members of the Council didn't seem to understand what she meant by this, but nodded anyway.

"And how long is your organization's astronomy record?"

"We have detailed records going back at least five hundred years, and other records of variable quality going back nearly three thousand...but the important part is that these records were collected and placed into a mathematics automaton that we call a computer. This allows us to predict the positions of all objects in our night sky long into the past, and far into the future. We actually have a team at NASA-Goddard who is working closely with JAXA to put together a similar prediction model for Falmart's skies."

"The large section on the back of this vehicle, how was it pulled up into that position?"

This one, Mullan answered. "It's a Hydraulic Drive system," he said. "It lets us create massive amounts of force by moving a liquid around."

As the Council went off to debate these early observations, the next group slid into place; a group of Pina-aligned Senators lead by a man who introduced himself as Cicero La Moltose. After giving a curt nod to Carol, he gladly shook Mullan's hand and said, "It is most pleasant to meet new allies. It is both calming and gratifying to know that we have not one, but two countries on Earth who support our cause."

"On behalf of President Dirrel, Congress, and the citizens of the United States, we are glad to make your acquaintance," Mullan replied. "And we are more than happy to help. The United States has a proud history of fighting tyranny, so we take great pride in helping the Japanese in whatever way we can. I regret, however, that we weren't allowed to commit significant combat forces to the campaign."

"We will take whatever help we can get," Cicero said, placing a hand on Mullan's shoulder. "Say, I heard that Japan buys many of their weapons from your country. Could we, perhaps, strike a deal?"

Mullan smiled back at him, "Maybe someday. Japan controls all exports to Falmart right now. I am sure some nice gentlemen from Colt and Remington will magically appear on your doorstep if that ever changes."

Carol shot him a look. Guns were the _last_ thing that the Special Region needed now. The Colonel took no notice, however, shaking hands with each Senator in turn. It wasn't until they were out of earshot that he whispered to her in English, "Fat chance of that. By the time they're done paying reparations to Japan, I'd be amazed if they have enough for a single bullet casing, to say nothing of a rifle."

The next group was the most confounding of all but at the same time familiar; she had seen each member on TV before. A curiously shy elf named Tuka had nothing to say, and was quick to dart back behind the remaining JSDF officers coming up the slope. A quiet mage named Lelei asked one or two brief questions about the "alchemy" used to move the HML, and Carol gave her a few basics on solid fuel combustion.

And the third one…

Rory Mercury was mercifully shorter in person than she'd appeared on television, which meant that she was looking up at Carol as she approached. Still, the giant halberd leaning on the girl's shoulder hovered like a dark cloud over her, and the conversation. "I am Rory Mercury," she said, "An Apostle of Emroy, the God of Darkness."

 _Here we go._ Greta had often talked about the Apostles with a sense of awe, and while the girl herself didn't look so dangerous, the weapon she carried with her certainly was, and the ease that she seemed to heft it hinted at strength beyond reason. Best be polite then. "It's a rare privilege to meet a religious leader of—"

The Apostle laughed once, almost a bark, and said, "The weapon behind you, what do you call it?"

"This?" Carol said, pointing a thumb back at the HML. "Technically, it's a scientific—"

Rory rolled her eyes and addressed Mullan instead. "You. Soldier. What do you call a weapon of this type?"

Mullan didn't answer at first, regarding Rory with a steely-eyed stare. Carol knew that Rory had already pushed one of his buttons by calling the airman a soldier, but most servicemen seemed to brush such mistakes off when civilians confused the branches. This seemed to be something else, though. _Does he know something about her already?_ Carol wondered.

"It's a missile," he said, his voice low and firm. "We call it a missile."

"And what does it do exactly?"

"It goes up, and it comes back down."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"No explosion at the end? A bit of an anticlimax for an Earth weapon."

Mullan slowly progressed to a thin smile. "It's like Dr. Dawson said. These carry scientific payloads. The worst they could do is bust a hole in someone's roof."

"Even if it's military hardware, it's a civilian space program," Carol said. "There's no reason to—"

Rory turned back to her and said, "You don't believe in a god, do you?"

It wasn't just the tone she used, but that she said it in English that shocked Carol the most. "H-how—"

"Of course you don't. Because you don't have anything to fear. You live in a world of books and tools, where you understand everything you know… and where everything you don't know can be explained by someone else or chased away by men with guns."

The Apostle leaned closer, "You're living a lie. Any sane man will tell you that there is a darkness to the world; things worth being afraid of, things you have little or no control over. To some, things worth praying to a god about. Without some of that fear, a person loses awareness of the world around them… drifts… and is more likely to miss the smaller things that can and will hurt them.

"Perhaps if you had a bit more fear in your life, you would understand why I am so curious about your missile."

She backed off, and Carol felt like she was coming out of a shadow—impossible, since Rory was shorter than her—and blinked as the rest of the world came back into focus. Now at a more casual distance, Rory added with a wry smile, "Perhaps that's why I like Itami so much. The man's overly cautious, and it forces him to make careful decisions, even if they don't seem obvious at the time."

A hand appeared on Rory's shoulder, and Carol looked up to see a Japanese soldier sporting the rank insignia of a 1st Lieutenant standing above her. It took a moment, but Carol eventually recognized the black spiky hair from the television reports. "Don't scare the Americans, Rory," Itami said, offering an amused grin. "They have powerful technology, but weak constitutions. I hear that most of them run away screaming at some of Japan's tamest Anime."

"Japan has in interesting definition of Tame, Lt. Itami," Mullan said, matching the smile. "When they told me that we were deploying to the Special Region, I wondered if we would ever run into the Hero of Ginza. It's nice to finally meet you in person."

"Likewise." The men shook hands, and for a moment Carol assumed that all was fine between them.

That impression was dispelled as Itami added, "and Colonel? My superiors may wish to forget Hakone, but I haven't. Stay away from my friends."

Before Carol or Mullan could get another word in, Hazama approached and declared, "A superb start to the day. The Rondel Council seems very impressed with what we've shown them so far, and I am hopeful that we will have them on our side by the time they leave. Dr. Dawson, are we ready to begin?"

"If Mullan thinks we're ready to fly, I'm happy to start the presentations," she said. "Oh, I'll need someone to go get Greta-"

"I'll have Foster and Schumer go find her," Mullan said.

As Carol followed Hazama, she peeked over at Rory again, and was startled at how, after a mere few seconds, the girl seemed to automatically notice and look back. "Just curious," Carol said. "Surely you don't think me more fearless than Air Force Colonel Mullan."

Rory laughed. "That man has fear enough for both of you."

This made Carol glance back in the direction of the HML trailer. The Colonel was still there, staring up at the vertical launch container, seemingly lost in thought.

* * *

 **Author's Note: And that finishes the setup portion of the story. Thanks for your patience! Next three chapters were the reason I wanted to write this fic in the first place, and I look forward to sharing them with you!**


	8. Chapter 8: Liftoff

**Chapter 8: Liftoff**

 **LATER THAT DAY**

 **Alnus FOB, Alnus**

If the scene from the launch viewing area had a festival atmosphere, then the situation at the 'launch control' couldn't have been more different.

Colonel Mullan checked his wristwatch and turned around to face the rear compartment of the HML's tractor. There, he opened a base panel and took out a modified KY-68 military phone handset. Normally, these would be attached to a land line and would provide secure communications all the way to the receiver, but this one had been modified to send a signal over the Japanese FOB's wireless line. True, this increased the chance of the signal being intercepted and decoded, but the military was trying to retire the KY-68 anyway and the information he was exchanging would be worthless to any foreign nation that got their hands on it.

After slipping an encryption key into the side of the unit, he a dialed number that he'd long-since memorized.

The phone rang a few times before someone on the other end picked up and said, "Key West."

"Seashell," Mullan replied. "This is Colonel Mullan, put me through to the General, please."

"Of course," said the USSTRATCOM operator, "please stay on the line."

It only took a moment, then, "General Barton, is that you, Rich?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're launching again? Damn, that was a quick turnaround."

Mullan smiled. "The guys at Lockheed Martin were more surprised that the first bird didn't explode on the launcher. Compared to the refurb job, they said that writing the new navigation code was easy."

"Glad to hear it. Now, I believe I owe you some letters… ah, here they are. Sierra, Zulu, Kilo, Tango, Lima, Hotel."

"Copy, that was Sierra, Zulu, Kilo...Tango, Lima, Hotel."

"Right, don't have too much fun."

"Thank you, sir." He returned the phone to its cradle and turned to face the men in the front compartment of the HML's cabin. There, Major Becker and another Missilier named Peters patiently waited his instructions.

It was different from the procedures that had been drilled into Mullan after years of working with Minuteman III in Nebraska. Normally there would be another round of authentication involved and Strategic Command would be the ones contacting him, instead of the other way around. Still, this was the system that General Barton had decided upon, and he wasn't about to complain.

"We are go for launch," the Colonel said, "Begin launch procedures."

Both men reached under their shirts, pulled out another pair of crypto-keys, and inserted them into the control panel in front of them. Becker pulled out a flight checklist, and the rest went like clockwork.

"Step one, insert launch keys-done" Becker said.

"Agreed," Peters chimed in.

"Step two, Targeting or Launch option selected-select Launch."

Peters typed on the keyboard in front of him, and an 80s-era CRT monitor blinked as the new option on the ancient GUI was selected. "Done."

They went through five more steps before Becker stated, "Step Eight, Enter Unlock Code."

Mullan repeated the code that Barton had given him. Even though the Midgetman out in the field was not armed with anything more dangerous than a dummy warhead, the Cold War era system was still locked down with all the old security procedures. That meant that it required the whole deal to launch; keys, codes, and finally…

"Step eighteen, in Launch action at this time. Hands on keys," Becker called, and looked up at a digital clock above his head. The keys in question were not the same code-keys they had inserted earlier; these were four knobs—two before each crewmember—spaced out so that it was impossible for one person to turn all four at the same time. "On my mark; three, two, one, _mark._ "

They turned the knobs. "Hold!" Becker cautioned.

"ELC message sent!" Peter replied.

"And release! ELC message transmit?"

"Agreed."

Before them, lights began to illuminate all across the control panel. The computerized systems were now controlling the launch.

Mullan flicked on his radio and said, "Tell Dawson fifteen." That was roughly as long as it took from this point. In the viewing area, Technical Sergeant Schumer would be giving Carol the launch signal.

One last step; they all checked their seatbelts and covered their ears.

* * *

 **ONE HOUR LATER**

The day had consisted of demonstration after demonstration, and while Carol was growing tired from waiting her turn, she had to admit that the JSDF and USAF could put on quite a show.

Weapons demonstrations, tank maneuvers, aerial acrobatics with the Phantoms. Hazama had even recruited Captain Hines and one of the Hawks to demonstrate a limited parachute deployment. Some of the Rondel Council members had screamed at the sight of men tumbling out of a perfectly good aircraft, and had applauded as the parachutes for the four jumpers unfurled. Cicero had been fast to point out, "And if you find that to be impressive, the Japanese dropped over a hundred men on Sadera that way to rescue us!"

Behind Carol, Foster let out a loud cough. Of course, she knew that the United States had access to similar technology, and could paratroop more than just men into enemy territory.

She had then proceeded to give the Council a similar model-rocket demonstration like the ones she had been running for the previous week, and together they had watched Mullan's Midgetman missile disappear into the late-afternoon sky. She had learned her lesson from the last launch and had moved the viewing area back by another few hundred feet, passed out binoculars, and had several JSDF soldiers go around offering hearing protection. When the rocket finally launched, it was met only with awe, instead of some of the fear that had followed the first launch.

This led to her presentation. They had set up a platform for her on base and, after a sweeping, panoramic movie on Japan, she finally took the stage. "Hello again!" She said, smiling to her audience. "Now that you've had the chance to see a rocket in flight, I'd like to take you through some of the accomplishments of American and Japanese space flight. It makes for an excellent story, and I hope that you'll find it interesting and entertaining.

"But, before that, why go into space at all? Let's begin by looking at some moving pictures captured by our last rocket launch."

She keyed a button on her controller and on the projector behind her the world suddenly exploded into few-which is to say that viewers had only a few seconds to see the Alnus Hill airfield before the rocket carrying the camera began to climb. The star-shaped base came into view next and quickly shrank as well.

As the rocket climbed and more features came into view, Carol pointed them out with a laser pointer. Granted, at that altitude the cities were either gray/tan dots or glowing lights. 'Italica," she said, pointing as the city appeared below. "There's the Dumas mountain range, and the Tuba mountains… and that glowing dot coming into view on the right side is Sadera."

After a few minutes, Carol paused the video. By this point, the camera was looking down from well over 80,000 feet, and it was possible to see much of the continent below. Various Council members crammed forward to get a closer look, a few whispering to each other and pointing. "This should illustrate some of the more obvious reasons for wanting to go into space," Carol said. "From up here, we can map the territory below, plan navigation based on geography, make assumptions about resources from geology, and both follow and predict the movement of clouds and weather."

She allowed the video to jump ahead a brief period of time and, after a flash, the camera switched positions to one pointing out of the rear of the nose cone. The stage behind it fell away, and the scene made the audience gasp.

From this altitude, they could see the curvature of the planet below. In the back, someone exclaimed, "Look! Passol was right!" Which lead to even more, louder discussions from the Council members.

"From this angle," Carol said, "we are able to collect information about the materials of planet's upper atmosphere. Light from your sun passes through the gasses near the upper layers, and the changes to the light are detected by machines in the rocket. We call this Spectroscopy."

She allowed the shot to continue for a few more seconds, so that the camera was now facing the heavens. Even though the sky had still been a fading orange at the time of launch, the stars were easily visible from the rocket's apogee. "Space also gives us instant access to the heavens, and more ways to learn about what's up there, unobstructed by the seemingly opaque atmosphere during daylight hours. From up here, we can see all kinds of interesting things.

"With this in mind, here's a brief look at how far NASA and JAXA have come in the field of space science."

The film that followed was what Carol liked to call a highlight reel, because it picked only the more interesting moments; Explorer 1, Alan Shepherd and John Glen, Kennedy shouting "we Choose to Go to the Moon," then rushing past the Gemini program and into Apollo.

Carol looked away from the screen to take in the audience. The Council and Senators were all enraptured by the spectacle, while most of the JSDF officers were a mix of bemused or bored. In the back, Itami seemed to be paging through a book, Lelei and Tuka were studying the images on the screen with rapt attention…

...and Rory turned to stare back at her, raising an eyebrow and adding a sardonic grin in return. Carol shuddered and looked away. _Creepy._

The montage played on; early JAXA rockets derived from American Deltas, the Space Shuttle, the International Space Station and a plethora of Hubble photos.

The presentation ended to thunderous applause. Carol liked seeing this reaction, but a nagging voice in her head called out, _the Kennedy guys left Russia and ESA out of the presentation again, and cut the Japanese down to twenty seconds._ Admittedly, this was normal for NASA PR pieces, but she was so used to hearing some rocket fanatic in the back call her out on it that she almost expected it as the first comment.

Before opening the floor to questions, she had one last part of the presentation to deliver. "To give you an example of American-Japanese cooperation in space, I wanted to take a few minutes to talk about a mission that I personally worked on, the Akatsuki Venus probe."

A photo-slide appeared of the probe. Like most deep-spacecraft, it was boxy with long rectangular solar panels and a big radio dish for signaling. Carol had never seen the real thing in person, nor had she been present when it launched. "The Akatsuki space probe was launched by the Japanese space agency about eight years ago on a voyage to one of the inner planets. Everything seemed fine for the initial part of the journey, until the probe ran into trouble. The main engine, the part used for speeding the probe up and slowing the probe down, had failed. In a desperate attempt to try and get to Venus on the second pass, JAXA and NASA collaborated on exploring the other engines on the probe, as well as sharing the calculations effort needed to make sure that any alternative engines were fired at the correct times needed to get Akatsuki back on target."

Above her, the scene changed to an overhead map of the inner solar system; the Sun in the center, and Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars displayed around it, along with their orbits. She pointed to each planet with her laser pointer as she explained, "This is what some of our solar system looks like. Much like your solar system, ours is made of a few rocky inner planets, and-"

"PREPOSTEROUS!" Came a voice from the audience.

Carol spun around, searching the assembly for the voice, and spotted a man standing in the second row. He was short, bald, and wide, and pointed at her at a staff topped with a combined symbol of a star and crescent moon. "The people of America and Japan are free to believe whatever they want about the heavens," he declared, "But do not for one _instant_ assume that we are so stupid as to believe that that the skies of Falmart operate on as ridiculous a model as that!"

As Dawson scanned the audience, she was shocked to see that many of the Rondel Council members, and even some of the _Senators_ were nodding their heads in agreement.

An elf (Carol could tell by the ears) a few seats down stood as well and pointed out, "But Nariv, the Americans and Japanese have demonstrated to us today that their grasp on natural philosophy is far more sophisticated than our own—"

"Toys, contraptions, _worldly_ objects," Nariv spat. "Even if they have demonstrated a knowledge of combustion, flight engineering, and ballistics, none of these demonstrate actual knowledge of Falmart's skies, and none of them will get me to believe such a stupid concept as Mochrie's Heliocentric Theory!"

Those last two words hit Carol harder than the returning payload of one of Mullan's rockets. _Holy crap,_ she realized, _these people still think they're the center of their universe! They think their sun orbits around_ them _!_

"But-" the elf began.

"Passol's observations of a spherical world are true," Nariv said, "This is known."

Nods of assent.

"And if the world is not fixed by the proposed seeding point, then it cannot hold itself up and _must_ be falling toward something, where it will inevitably crash and destroy the world, this is also known!"

Now shouts of agreement.

"And the planets above are suspended there by transparent spheres. These alter direction based on the Larok equations that are taught in intermediate astronomy classes. I recall that you, Flat El Coda, slept through those very same classes!"

Laughter this time. Carol looked to the other people in the audience, hoping that not the whole world had gone insane. Indeed, the Council members and Senators seemed to agree Nariv's ideas. Towards the back, Tuka was smiling as well, Lelei was as emotionless as ever, and even Greta and an unsure grin on her face, as if still trying to figure out the disparity between the knowledge of these academics and Dawson's lectures.

The JSDF, thank heavens, appeared far less confused. Soldiers grimaced and shook their heads. Mullan, towards the back, was halfway through a cigarette and had one hand up to his forehead. Professor Shirai stood next to him, and the astronomer looked like he was about to lose all composure. If Carol said nothing soon, he certainly would.

Rory was staring back down at her, directly, holding out a hand as if to say, _Well?_

"And another thing," Nariv added, "If anyone were so ridiculous as to believe Mochrie's Heliocentric Theory, wouldn't the moon be left behind as our planet travels? Or do you also wish to argue some imaginary _invisible_ attractor principle—"

"That is such _**bullshit!**_ " Carol spat.

This caught Nariv off guard. He froze for a moment, turned back towards the stage, and said, "What did you—"

"I called it what it is, ignorant _bullshit!_ " Carol stated. She could feel the heat rising into her face, but she didn't care; this bastard was going down. "Since the people of my world began their forays into space, we have placed over eight thousand objects into orbit around our planet, _suspended by that same attractor principle_. Some of these objects even carried people—five hundred and forty-five of them! And a dozen of those went all the way to the surface of our moon!"

Nariv tried to get a word in edgewise, but Carol continued, "We have sent many probes to the neighborhood and surfaces of our planets, confirmed our findings with millions of observations, and built telescopes powerful enough to see the same sun-centric solar model around a hundred other stars aside from our own. I stand by Mr. Flat and his Heliocentric Model because I know— _from experience—_ that it is the correct one! Not this fantasy ass-pull of a geocentric fairy tale."

This time, dead silence, then a peal of laughter from Rory who stood and said, "How delicious! In the past few weeks I have seen men tear others to shreds with arrows, swords, bullets, and bombs. It has been too long since I last saw two academics ready to gut each other with natural philosophy! Emroy is pleased, _do_ proceed!"

Carol and Nariv similarly opened their mouths and raised their hands to start the argument when a member of the Rondel Council stood. " _If I may_ ," he said, "I am Alron El Tarinium, the Astronomy Director of the Council. Nariv is technically correct, in that he cites established natural philosophy—"

He saw Carol about to counter when he added, " _however,_ there is no one here who can deny the complexity of the technology presented today by Japan and America. It is _possible_ that, with technologically advanced astronomy instruments, that they have observed something that has eluded the astronomers of Falmart.

"Therefore, I propose that we resolve the matter of Mochrie's Heliocentricity Theory once and for all with an investigation. Flat, you have been studying the language of the Men in Green, correct?"

Flat nodded.

"Then you shall work with Dr. Carol Dawson and her colleagues to compile a report with _irrefutable_ evidence that supports Heliocentricity. Since Dawson claims that Japan and America have already proven it to exhaustion, I shall give you one day, starting now, to compile the needed materials. If the presentation proves to be unsatisfactory, then we can close the book on Mochrie and the entire matter."

Tarinium turned back to the Rondel Council. "Do you agree that this is reasonable?"

The members of the Council nodded, to which the old astronomer stated, "It is decided, then. We shall return here tomorrow night for the report. Do not disappoint us, Flat El Coda."

This settled, the various residents of the Special Region filtered out of the open-air auditorium, leaving Flat and Greta to join Carol on the stage. "I shouldn't have said anything," Flat groaned, "If we lose, Alfie will never be able to take the shame—"

"We won't lose," Carol said. "I don't care if we have to stay up all night, Galileo was _right_ , and I'm not going to give that smirking ass any chance to live down how wrong he was tonight."

"While Nariv could have been politer about it, the points he made are accepted as fact," Greta pointed out. "Carol, I wish I'd known, I could have warned you."

"It's fine, Greta. We've been teaching school students heliocentricity for three hundred years now, I'm sure that we can come up with a way to explain it to a bunch of old men."

"But your theories are based on the skies of America and Japan," Flat argued. "The Council will only accept information based on Falmart's skies, and you only have limited information on that."

"That is where you are wrong." The speaker approaching from the back of the auditorium was professor Shirai, who had a deep scowl on his face.

"Flat, this is Professor Shirai," Carol explained, "He's one of Japan's best astronomers, and he's been studying the skies of Falmart for months now."

"The skies of Falmart are indeed Heliocentric," Shirai said. "Not only that, I have accumulated the records to prove that this is the case using both Kepler's equations, and the methods available to Galileo to help us in proving the same."

Flat's eyes widened, "So… there's a chance?"

"A chance? Hah!" Shirai proclaimed. "If evidence is what they want, I will down them in evidence. If it is equations they wish for, I have all of them. If we must reinvent Falmart's perception of mathematics and astronomy from the ground up to eliminate this ludicrous geocentric premise, then I will gladly aid you in doing so! Come, let us begin immediately!"

The Japanese professor rushed away, the elf in quick pursuit and Greta, curious as ever, following quickly after him. As Carol was about to pass from the lit presentation space, a voice called out, "Dawson, hold up."

She turned around to see that Mullan was still leaning against the electric pole. His arms were folded and he seemed unhappy. "Did I do something wrong?" Carol asked.

"Yeah. I talked with Hazama on the way out. He's pretty upset about what you said, and I need to agree with him."

"But you heard what Nariv was saying," Carol pointed out. "Geocentricity? Invisible spheres? _Come on_."

"I don't disagree with you on the topic of science. You _are_ the one with the doctorate, after all." Mullan let his arms fall to his sides as he added, "But right or wrong, you should've kept your mouth shut."

Carol shook her head. "I wasn't about to let something so idiotic—"

" _Carol,_ the point of this whole event is to get the Rondel Council on our side. Starting a shouting contest with one of their astronomers gets us nowhere. Directly insulting their views on the world is even worse. _So what if they're wrong?_ The whole idea here is to win a war, not rewrite the book on Astronomy in the Special Region."

Mullan sighed. "What's done is done. Ball's in your court now, and the fate of Pina's coalition is riding on you making a splash with this lecture tomorrow. But if I could make one last request? Whatever cultural junk they scream at you, regardless of how goofy it is, don't provoke them further."

Dawson watched him go. _The hell with the war,_ she thought, _isn't the whole point of us deploying here to start a space program? Isn't the purpose of my being here to educate the locals? If he doesn't want me to speak up when I hear something wrong, what_ DOES _he want me to do?_

She gave an irritated huff and rushed after the others. She didn't need Mullan's war, she now had her own battle to fight.

* * *

 **Author's note on fact and fiction:**

 **The fiction:** According to Takumi Yanai, the author of GATE, the geocentric theory and derision towards heliocentricity expressed by Nariv is really what the residents of the Special Region think about their universe. This information is detailed in passing between Flat and Itami during his trip to Rondel which occurs during Volume 5, Chapter 6 of the Light Novel. For those of you who have only seen the anime, this scene was omitted from a moment just before Lelei was about to present her thesis to an audience of academics, during which she was nearly assassinated.

 **The facts:** Japan launched the Akatsuki space probe to Venus in May of 2010. In December of the same year, the probe failed to enter orbit around Venus when its main engine shut down early due to a valve fault. Japan did indeed gain a second chance at entering Venus orbit, and successfully did so in December of 2015 by using the spacecraft's RCS motors to complete the orbit insertion burn. While NASA contributed to the science instruments used on the probe, JAXA solved the navigation and propulsion problem on their own. Dawson's and NASA's involvement in the operation is just as much of a fan-fiction as your favorite nation storming the Gate with Japan after the events at Ginza.


	9. Chapter 9: Roll Program

**Chapter 9: Roll Program**

 **TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER**

 **Alnus FOB**

Same people, same space, _very_ different circumstances.

Colonel Mullan watched from a seat in the back. He hadn't talked to Carol since the night before, and at the time she had been a terrifying sight to behold. Even at five-foot eight (172cm) she had quite a presence, and the wild eyes and sneer on her face at his suggestion made him wonder, if only briefly, if he should tell her the whole truth.

 _No, of course not, that's against orders._ Watching the two academics duke it out the night before had been an eerie experience. Sure, he had heard of people willing to start global conflicts over different viewpoints on religion, economics, government, but to see two academics so _sure_ of themselves, so ready to go on the attack over a concept that hardly mattered, was scary in its own way.

"Colonel?"

Mullan looked over his shoulder to see Itami a few feet behind him. He was alone this time, the usual band of girls having already found seats in the amphitheater below. "Need something, Lieutenant?" Mullan asked.

"I've been told that Tuka, Lelei, Rory, and I are to leave for Italica the moment this presentation ends," he said. "And before that happens, I want some answers."

"You could always ask General Hazama, or Intelligence Officer Yanagida."

"Yanagida claims to know nothing, and Hazama doesn't respond to questions."

"But you think that I will?"

"I must try." Itami folded his arms. "What happened with Hakone?"

Mullan shrugged. "Wasn't there, couldn't say."

"But you acknowledge that something happened."

"I acknowledge that our two countries are better off pretending that nothing ever did."

"But since something did happen," Itami said, pointing at him, "This begs my second question. Why are you here now?"

Mullan shrugged. "The government of Japan wanted mobile rockets. We had mobile rockets in storage. Here we are."

"So soon after Hakone? Why?"

Mullan smiled. "We're here on your government's request, so you tell me. Have you come across anything nasty in the skies of Falmart, or something worth keeping an eye on down below?"

"I have seen many things, Colonel Mullan, none of which merits the establishment of a space agency… which leads me to my third question. Carol Dawson… who is she really?"

The Colonel felt his mood brighten at that question. It old him that Itami was shooting in the dark, and really didn't understand what was going on. "She's a NASA scientist with a long background in working with Japan and PR groups. Doctorate, bilingual, _really_ knows her subject matter."

"But what is her connection to your government?"

"She works for NASA."

"The _defense_ component of your government?"

"I told you, she works for NASA. If you have this wild idea of her being some military agent or CIA spy, you can forget it. The closest she's ever gotten to the defense industry has been coverage of launches for the National Reconnaissance Office or Air Force, and only the simple stuff like GPS satellites."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Itami, you can believe whatever the hell you want. Look, they're starting now."

The amphitheater's lights dimmed slightly as the elf, Flat El Coda took the stage. "Good evening," he said. "As per the request of the Rondel Council, I have worked with NASA engineer Dr. Carol Dawson and NAOJ Professor Hitoshi Shirai to explore the use of high-end equipment to conclusively determine the positional relationship between our planet and the sun.

"But first, I wish to call to your attention some observations on the White Planet."

Some groans, and Nariv shouted, "We don't care about the White Planet! The function of this report—"

"The White Planet observations are an important part of the report," Flat said. "Director, if I may?"

At the front Tarinium nodded, and a picture was projected onto a screen behind Flat. On it, the White Planet appeared as a small circle. "Now," Flat said. "We are all familiar with the positions and motions of the White Planet, but, while observing the planet, Professor Shirai noticed an interesting phenomenon about it."

He picked up a wood staff and pointed at three other points of light on the screen. "These objects have significance. Please keep them in mind as I move to a picture from the following night."

He did so. The White Planet remained the same, but the dots had all moved. "Now, watch as we move through the three months since these observations began."

The dots continued to move around but, just as they seemed about to depart the White planet, they suddenly changed direction and headed back towards it, then eventually past it. Then, before they could escape in that direction, they moved back towards the position they'd started from.

Mutters from the audience. "Members of the Council, I need not explain what your eyes have already acknowledged, but I will do so anyway. These objects are going around the White Planet. They are, in effect, moons of it."

Lots of muttering. "And you expect us to believe that this was not fabricated," Nariv said. "Surely if the Americans and Japanese can compose montages such as those we saw yesterday, then they can produce something as simple as dots moving around another dot."

"That is a fair point," Flat said, "And we expected you to make this argument. Greta, would you please pass your hand in front of telescope?"

And suddenly, the image on the screen was blocked and covered over-for the last one had not been an image at all, but a live video feed!

Half the Councilmembers were immediately on their feet. "The telescope is _here!?_ " Tarinium blurted, "WHERE!?"

Flat grinned and pointed to a back corner of the space, where Greta and Carol stood manning a big, newer reflecting telescope. It was of the larger sort usually only issued to special organizations, astronomy clubs, and loaned to science museums. At six feet long, it was an order of magnitude more massive than anything the natural philosophers at Rondel had ever touched, and the magnifying power it implied seemed enormous.

Thus, proceedings came to a grinding halt as much of the audience rushed the telescope. After a good five minutes of pushing and shoving, Tarinium shouted, "Stop, stop! If each of us demands a look, we'll be here all night. Please, let us limit this to Council Members only, and open the telescope to everyone else later tonight!"

It still took another ten minutes for the observations to be made, for the members of the Rondel Council to have their brief discussion, and then return to their seats before Tarinium declared, "We find the observation of the Shirai Moons around the White Planet to be sound."

From the back, and excited "Haaaah!" and Mullan looked over to see Professor Shirai with a delighted smile splitting his face, all but jumping up in down with joy. _I can't blame him,_ the Colonel thought, _the man just had a moon system named after him. That's like the astronomy version of being listed as Football MVP of the decade._

"If that is the case," Flat said, "Then you must also admit that the theory of the transparent spheres that transport the planets is unsound."

"Why?"

"If there was a transparent sphere dictating the motions of the White Planet, wouldn't the Shirai Moons smash against it during their travels?"

Mullan looked around to see Carol looking down and nodding, a cruel grin on her face. This was the first direct attack on Nariv's comments from the day before. Indeed, the comment was met with dead silence.

"Furthermore," an astronomer in the audience piped, up, "The moons are clearly moving about the White Planet. Even if the White Planet had its own subset of transparent spheres, we cannot see a turning mechanism."

Clearly seeing the audience beginning to reconsider the standard model, Nariv stood and said, "Regardless of what is occurring about the White Planet, this has nothing to do with the Heliocentric Theory! It does not demonstrate that the planets are going about the sun!"

Flat swallowed, nodded and said, "Then I would like to continue this report with an examination of the Yellow Planet—"

"Is it your intent to go through every planet before the night is out?"

"No Nariv, this one proves heliocentricity directly. If you would examine this next picture..."

The picture of the Yellow Planet was roughly oval shaped, and looked like the Moon when it was half-illuminated. Yet, it was clear from the blurry surface that it was not Falmart's moon. Rather, the object had a yellowy tint to it that suggested sulfur or ammonia.

"What you are seeing," Flat said. "Is the first picture taken of the Yellow Planet by JSDF Leading Private Okubo, about two days after Japan first came through the Gate. Once this picture made it back to Japan, they immediately called for Professor Shirai and began a dedicated survey of Falmart's skies, including pictures of the planets."

This was followed by another, slightly clearer picture of the same thing, but the darkness had receded slightly, and the lit portion of the planet had grown. "This picture is from two months ago. Notice, please, the position of the light-dark terminator in relation to the rest of the planet."

Some grumbles from the audience, so Flat continued with, "If we go by the assumption that our world is the center of astral rotation, then the phases of the Yellow Planet must remain consistent with the Sun as being a light source beyond it."

On a whiteboard by the stage, he drew this diagram:

_Y_

_F_

_S_

"This is our present model, where F is Falmart and its planet which form the astral center, while the Yellow planet, Y, is overhead at night, even as the Sun, S, is beneath us. The Geocentric Larok model states furthermore that, due to the apparent size of the Yellow planet in the sky, its period of motion, and its occasional appearance in the early morning or late evening sky, it sits closer to us than the Sun. A product of this is that, should we ever observe the Yellow Planet up close, then the planet would never, under any circumstances, display a full disk to our observations, as this would require the sun to illuminate the Yellow planet while our planet is blocking it."

He stopped, then looked back at the audience once before saying, "This next image was taken about a minute before sunrise this morning."

This time, the planet was completely illuminated. It drew more than a few gasps. "As we can see, this morning the disk of the Yellow Planet was fully visible. Not only that, but if we look at the full collection of pictures…"

He pressed another button, and a hundred pictures flashed by, showing the planet going through its phases. "You will see that the light upon the planet grows through these phases. If you are also paying close attention, you will note that the planet appears to shrink slightly as the light increases.

"And the only way that such a phenomenon could happen," Flat concluded, "Is if the Yellow Planet goes about the Sun by going behind it."

He drew another diagram:

_Y_

_S_

_F_

"This makes much more sense, and makes the skies far less chaotic. I asked Carol to create an image to help prove this by comparing the appearance of our skies through a geocentric model to that with a heliocentric model. Here is what it looks like with Larok's model:

He shifted to an animated picture. In it, the Moon and Sun remained consistent in their circular paths about the planet at the center, while the other planets seemed to corkscrew every which way in a dizzying spirograph.

"If you admit that the Yellow Planet, at least, goes about the sun, and that the Shirai Moons exist, then it becomes even worse."

In the second animated diagram, the Yellow planet rocketed in and out of the system, accelerating and decelerating at bizarre and unpredictable rates, while the moons of the White Planet added their own insanity to the display.

"Or," Flat concluded, "you can accept a Heliocentric System."

Finally, the heliocentric model, appearing far calmer, and Falmart's planet with its moon looking sensible alongside the White Planet and its trio.

"If the Shirai moons failed to disprove the Invisible Sphere theory, then these diagrams should have succeeded," Flat said. "And we can agree through both the orbits of the Yellow Planet and the models of the planets in general that the Heliocentric model is the only one that appears sound."

Silence for a moment, then Nariv said, "You are missing a very important detail. If all these planets and moons are going about as you describe, what keeps them there?"

Flat looked up to Carol, unsure, but the NASA representative gave him an encouraging smile and nod. "Objects of planet size or larger, like our Sun, exert an invisible downward-accelerating force that affects all objects in their domain equally. The Japanese and Americans call this force Gravity.

"I recognize that this was argued against in the past, but I want to take a moment to point out that invisible forces are neither new nor novel. Go to any blacksmith and ask him to operate his bellows for you. Do they not create wind? And can wind not be used to move other physical objects? And surely wind cannot be seen, so it acts as an invisible force on other objects."

"But we can see wind," Nariv argued, "By placing something into it, like sand or fine flour,"

"Indeed, and we can see Gravity in action by placing something into it—particularly in the sense that if you let go of an object while standing on a planet, that object falls."

"And orbiting objects?"

"On the scale in question, the object is traveling horizontally and falling at the same time… but because the world is round, the world falls away faster than the falling object can catch up to it… so it moves in a circle."

"For something like that to work, all objects must indeed fall at the same rate," Tarinium pointed out. "If we were to drop a feather and piece of lead, for instance, the lead will fall faster, while the feather will drift down. This is presently assumed to be a product of an object's earthly attractiveness. Do you mean to disprove that as well?"

"I can. I shall, here and now."

He marched over to the side of the stage, and pulled out a curious contraption; a tower with a pair of diagonal tracks on top. Sitting at the very end of each track, a clear ball, like the kind you would place a gerbil into. Instead of rodents, however, each ball contained a different item; a single leaf from a tree in one, a small watermelon barely crammed into the other. The two were kept from falling off the track by a wood lever-operated bar. Mullan was, of course, familiar with the machine—his maintenance men had built it for them.

"When I pull this lever," Flat stated, "Each ball will fall off the track and onto the stage floor. You would argue that leaves fall slower than melons, but by encasing them in identical spheres, we remove the effects of air holding one or the other aloft for a longer period of time. In a sense, they would be attracted to the ground either at different times, by the current theory, or at the same time by the Gravity theory."

He looked up at Carol one more time for assurance, took a deep breath, pulled the lever, and...

* * *

 **ABOUT FIVE DECADES EARLIER**

 **The base of the Apennine Mountains, The Moon**

Apollo 15 Commander David Scott skidded to a halt in front of the Lunar Rover television camera and prepared for the next element of his third Lunar EVA. It had been a small entry in the flight plan, but he had smiled when he saw it. It was a cute idea and, if it looked good, it would probably be shown in classrooms for years, if not decades.

"Joe," he called out, "I hope you've got a good picture there! I've got—"

"Beautiful picture there, Dave," Dr. Joseph Allen, the Capsule Communicator or CAPCOM, replied. Scott silently cursed himself for forgetting the Earth-moon time lag, but with his sunshield down, the camera didn't see it.

He tried again, displaying the objects in his hands to the camera. "Well, in my left hand, I have a feather, in my right hand, a hammer. And I guess one of the reasons we got here today was because of a gentlemen named Galileo, a long time ago, who made a rather significant discovery about falling objects in gravity fields. And we thought where would be a better place to confirm his findings than on the Moon."

Scott shifted the hammer up in his hand. "And, uh, so we thought we'd try it here for you. The feather happens to be, appropriately, a falcon feather... for our Falcon."

The astronaut gestured to the large angular contraption behind him. The Apollo 15 Lunar Module, "Falcon", was a weird, boxy-looking contraption that looked like it had been assembled from tin foil, piping, and recycled patrol boat slices… but like everything else NASA commissioned, this did the job. That and the manufacturer, Grumman Aircraft, had a history with weird flying objects—the E-2C Hawkeye with its huge Frisbee-shaped early warning radar antenna was first to come to mind.

"And I'll drop the two of them here and, hopefully, they'll hit the ground at the same time."

David Scott was no idiot, and as the fourth man to land a spacecraft on the moon he had a very, _very_ good grasp on basic physics. Even so, he couldn't help but wonder if it would work. He hadn't had time to test it off-camera. The moon's super-thin atmosphere could affect the timing. Static electricity could cause the feather to cling to his spacesuit glove.

No other choice, it was time to go. He opened his hands, and let the hammer and feather fall…

* * *

 **PRESENT DAY**

 **Alnus FOB, Alnus**

… and both spheres hit the stage at exactly the same time, with identical clatters.

Mullan chucked, shook his head, and said, "How about that!"

Five decades earlier, USAF Colonel David Scott had reacted the exact same way.

"And if you feel more comfortable with a mathematical proof to help explain this, and the movement of the planets," Flat stated, "Professor Shirai has provided me with several copies providing amended motion equations and orbital parameters, while Dr. Dawson has provided a detailed background on a new kind of math needed to derive these equations. They call this math Calculus, and not only does it seem to accurately and consistently solve the standing problem of computing an area under a curve, but it also resolves an absurd number of long-sought three-dimensional geometry problems."

The Rondel Council sat there, many with their mouths agape, as they tried to comprehend the magnitude of everything they'd just witnessed. In the space of under an hour, their concept of astronomy had been upended, their understanding of falling objects had been explicitly trashed, and the junior astronomer on the stage had announced the existence of a resolution to untold mountains of calculations that had eluded Falmart's best for millennia.

Carol and Shirai took the stage. "Thank you for your patience," she said with a sickly-sweet smile. "This concludes our joint report on the Heliocentric model. Does the Council have anything they wish to add?"

An irate Nariv raged, "Even with the equations, even with your demonstrations, in no way will you ever be able to make the people believe—"

"Sorry to disappoint you," Carol said, "But in one week, JAXA will be launching an Epsilon rocket from the new pad here at Alnus. Unlike Midgetman, Epsilon is an orbital rocket, which is to say that it will loft a spacecraft into orbit around this planet. For months, the people of Falmart will be able to look up and see it pass across the heavens, many times per night. They will have no choice but to admit to Heliocentricity by Gravity because the proof of American and Japanese engineering will be hanging above their heads, _every night,_ for all to see!"

For a moment, none of them said anything, and the room was eerily silent. Then, Tarinium slowly stood, looked at his fellow council members and said, his voice barely audible, "I believe we owe Mochrie an apology."

Nods of assent, then shouts, then a standing ovation. "I think the response is clear!" the Rondel Astronomy director declared, "We hereby accept this evidence, and will pursue our astronomical outlook from a heliocentric viewpoint."

More cheers. Itami leaned over to Mullan and said, "So we've won?"

Mullan shook his head. There was one last thing he was waiting for.

"One more thing," Flat said. "I have spoken with their General Hazama and Colonel Mullan, and they have agreed to grant us access to _all_ of the equations that calculus derives… if we side with them in the war."

The Rondel Council clustered together and talked over the concept for a moment, then, after more nods, Tarinium said, "We accept."

" _Now_ we've won," Mullan said, standing. "Lieutenant Itami, I have other business to attend to. I wish you and your ladies a pleasant flight back to Italica."

On the stage, Carol barely noticed Flat's offer, as she was still reveling in the overwhelming success of the presentation. It had been the rush-job to end all rush-jobs, and had involved many loud, panicked phone calls to NASA centers, a select group of university institutions, and several other bizarre circumstances. The refractor telescope, for instance, had been pirated from the Kobe Science Museum and loaded aboard a bullet train bound for Tokyo.

"But—" Nariv started, yet one of the other Councilmembers cut him off.

"Since this Calculus and gravitational attraction are true, much of the old natural philosophy knowledge is obsolete," the man stated. "More importantly, once the war ends, I suspect that the cities of Falmart will find themselves competing against each other for Japanese and American business. If we do not begin educating ourselves on their mathematics now, how will we ever keep up?"

"But the _Gods,_ " Nariv pointed out. " _What about Elange!?_ "

No one was listening to him at this point. He gave an exasperated yell, and charged out of the amphitheater.

It took some time for the remainder of the event to wind down, as many of the people from Rondel still wished to use the telescope, but nearly an hour later, only Carol Greta, Flat, Shirai, and Tarinium were left. "You know," the older Rondel Astronomer said, "This Calculus thing you've described could bring about a new renaissance of the sciences in Falmart. It will be a very, very exciting next few years. I don't know what you plan on doing in that time to exceed this, Flat, but I'm sure that it will be spectacular. Perhaps something on your distortion observation?"

As Tarinium departed, Greta asked, "What distortion observation?"

"Ah, yes," Flat sighed. "If you look in the northwest sky, you will notice a kind of compression, where the stars are being drawn towards a single point in the sky. I do not believe that the stars are moving themselves. As the White Planet passes through the region during its orbit, it appears to also swing towards that point, and returns to its normal path across the sky once it leaves the region."

Shirai nodded. "I noticed that as well. Curious indeed. My current suspicion is that it's a gravity lens, but I cannot think of a sensible mass point—"

"A gravity lens?" Greta said. "What's that?"

"Well," Shirai began, "It requires a foundation in General Relativity, and I supposed that the best place to start is—"

"I think," Carol cut in, "That we've had enough lecturing in the past twenty-four hours to last us for months. Flat, your presentation was flawless. Send your fiancée our best regards, and feel free to send us a message if you ever wish to clarify something on Astronomy or Physics."

"The pleasure was mine, Dr. Dawson. Professor Shirai, could you walk with me to the helicopter? You caught my curiosity with this General Relativity thing."

"Of course, of course! It started a long time ago, with a German-American physicist named Albert Einstein…"

Carol and Greta watched the two go, and Carol was about to leave herself, when she did a double take. "Greta!"

"Carol?"

"I just realized! I never told them how we solved the Akatsuki probe!"

They looked at each other, then both burst out laughing, from stress, from exhaustion, what did it matter? Ultimately, it was all the same. Regardless of whether it was a stuck valve or a stuck culture, Carol felt pleased in the certainty that there wasn't anything that couldn't be solved with the right application of science and math.

* * *

 **LATER**

Before she could go to bed, Greta had one last thing to do. She opened the window of the barracks room, allowing the air to blow inside. There she got down on her knees, and offered the same prayer that she had given that morning.

 _Goddess of Study, La, the one that dwells_

 _Between all words and speech and life that's shown,_

Yet, unlike other days, she couldn't help but take extra time to ponder over each line. What _would_ La have to say about the events of the past day?

 _Who grants the means to let us drive away_

 _The shrouds which swathe the sum of what is known._

She had always taken this to mean careful study, with a book or a simple experiment. The day's preparations and evening lecture had been anything but that. Carol's tutelage of Flat and lecture design hadn't been so much a 'driving away' as a vicious attack. Not so much the work of La and study, as it was Elange, and established knowledge. In that sense, was Carol's treatment of the Council much better than Nariv's treatment of Flat? This hadn't been as much a case of learning as it was Carol beating others over the head with what she already knew.

But was that fair? After all, if someone already knew something, to what extent did one need to go back to study and review? Greta had only a beginner's background in physics and engineering. _I don't know._

 _I thank thee for thy studying technique_

 _And granting me that knowledge which I earn._

Had anything been _earned_ today? Sure, Carol, Shirai, and Flat had fought with fervor, but Flat had mostly been reciting whatever he had been told. And this Calculus… was it enough simply to learn it, or was there value to be gained in deriving it? If it was truly a new form of math, she had no place to say; many of the 'advanced' concepts she'd read about, like the Rules of Triangles, had been invented centuries ago. _I don't know._

 _Open my mind to those who wish to teach,_

 _And show me ways to grow from what I learn._

And the one thing that troubled her most wasn't until the very, very end. While Nariv had been wrong about Heliocentricity, Greta knew what he was referencing with regards to Elange. To allow knowledge to be updated and revised was a good thing-if anything, it was the perfect connection between La and her twin, but to put knowledge at unnecessary risk and allow it to come to harm, that was improper towards Elange.

What _were_ the views of the Gods towards the Men in Green and Men in Tan? It was the policy of the Gods to let the people of Falmart discover the truths about the universe on their own, but what of the way the Japanese and Americans reacted to the Gods themselves?

There was a knock at her door. Prayer over, Greta stood and opened the door to find a JSDF Leading Private standing in the hallway. He bowed to her and held out an envelope. "Greta-chan," he said, "A message from Rory Mercury, before she departed with Lt. Itami for Italica. She insisted that it was urgent."

Greta took the envelope and, after seeing the soldier off, sat down on her bed and stared at it in wonder. She had told the truth to Carol when she said that the Gods did not often communicate with mortals. The next best thing was a message from an Apostle, and here one was, from the representative of Emroy.

Carefully, she opened the envelope, unfolded the letter, and read the contents.

It said:

 **Carol Dawson is in grave peril, but is willingly blind to it. She will need you to help her. Be ready.**

* * *

 **Alnus Settlement, Alnus**

Nariv was a sorry sight as he tumbled out of the tavern. In his haste to get drunk, he had missed his flight back to Italica, and most of his money and traveling equipment had been left back in Rondel—the Men in Green had said that their helicopter negated the need for either of them. Now, here he was, nowhere near as drunk as he wanted to be, angry at the world and everything in it.

It was one thing to claim that the Men in Green possessed strange and powerful weapons, but he hadn't expected their academic knowledge to be one of them. In about an hour, they had torn up Larok's equations as if it had been a child's speculation, and then wrecked Earthly Attraction theory for sport. He had spent years working with those equations, creating corollaries and refinements. Half of his theses had relied on them, so what did that make him now that they were all destroyed.

And worst of all, the whole Council had simultaneously turned their backs on Elange. Was Japanese and American natural philosophy so powerful that it could consume Falmart's religion too? What would the Gods do then?

"You sir, you look like you're having a rough night."

A man on the other side of the street was calling to him. Nariv slowly regained his footing, and made his way over, "You haven't the slightest idea," he said. "The Japanese and Americans have simultaneously wrecked my honor, and destroyed years of my work."

"They do tend to go where they do not belong," the man said. "As a follower of Hardy, I continue to try and convince the people of this town of their trespasses, and remind them that the actions of the Men in Green against Hardy's Apostille will not go unpunished for long."

Nariv's eyes widened. "They have attacked Hardy too?"

"Have you not heard?" the man replied. "They killed three flame dragons, dropped tubes that explode on Giselle's head, then desecrated the land and sky with their rocket launches. I await in terror the day that Hardy brings her wrath to this town."

"It isn't merely that," Nariv said, and described the scene that he had witnessed at the end of Flat's lecture. The Follower of Hardy's eyes widened and he said, "We must tell the people immediately. Will you join me?"

Minutes later, they were standing before an audience of hundreds as Nariv shouted, "Listen! I have witnessed the darkness that these people bring to this great land, and you are all in danger! Hardly an hour or two ago, I watched with my own eyes as emissaries from Japan and America turned the entire Rondel Council against Elange. I shouted the names of the Gods of Falmart to them, but their stories of numbers and machines deafened the Council to my plea!"

This one caught the interest of a person in the audience. "It is true! I have heard that the Men in Green have militarized the Rondel Council and means to use them against Zorzal!"

Gasps, shouts, a people that already felt abandoned by the aristocracy felt themselves being abandoned further.

"But Rory—" someone began, but the Follower of Hardy was quick to cut them off.

"What of Rory? As an Apostle of Emroy, it is her job to bring about Darkness! And now look, as a result the soldiers from the other world have attacked the names of Hardy and Elange. How long must we wait? Until the Men in Green eliminate Lunayurr though their pocket-devices that blast sound? Until the Men in Tan strike Flare from the heavens and plunge the world into endless night?"

"Then what do we do?"

"We must arm ourselves and fight back!" He looked to Nariv for support.

It was a drastic measure, attacking the Men in Green on their own territory. In theory, it could work, but it would demand getting within sword range of the outsiders before they struck. Perhaps the Japanese compassion for civilians would keep them from firing? Yes, yes it was possible, but it needed to be handled very, very carefully.

 _Plus,_ he thought, _I truly wish to see that witch Carol Dawson's head removed._

"To arms!" He called, "To arms! But meet back here. We can drive the Men in Green from our lands, but we will not succeed without Elange to guide us, and Hardy to swiften our enemies to the Land Below! To arms and ready yourselves!"

And so, they began to move, some at first, then more and more, and Nariv allowed himself a crooked smile-he would get his revenge for this travesty of a night, and he would write his next thesis with the blood of an American scientist.

* * *

 **Author's note on science:**

The methods that Carol, Shirai, and Flat use to convince the Rondel Council are the same ones Galileo made to try and convince the people of his time that Heliocentricity was correct. Where Flat used the White and Yellow Planets, Galileo used Jupiter and Venus. Unfortunately, Galileo was met with far less success, since, unlike Falmart's theories, Geocentricity was considered proven through the Bible. It was not until the 18th century and the development of calculus that orbital motion could be proven, and Heliocentricity moved to prominence as established fact. Even today, however, you will continue to find ultra-religious sects that deny Heliocentricity.

The experiment described with Dave Scott was performed on the Moon, and you can easily find the video yourself by googling "Apollo feather hammer."


	10. Chapter 10: Max-Q

**Chapter 10: Max-Q**

 **LATER THAT NIGHT**

 **Alnus FOB East Gate, Alnus**

Leading Private Asato was in the third hour of his four-hour shift, and the weather that morning had shifted from warm and muggy to cool and breezy. Now that the Italica and Rondel VIPs had left, it was quiet… as quiet as the base could ever be, and distributed solar light posts between the Base and the Settlement made the road up to the closest turn easy to see.

That night, his usual discussion with LPvt. Sanda had turned to its usual stupid otaku antics of "What about if _ went through the Gate?"

"It's a guarantee," Asato said, "If Japan had a mech-a _real_ giant robot, we would have defeated all of Zorzal's forces long ago."

"I think you're overestimating the combat abilities of giant robots," Sanda said. "I mean, they are limited to the ground, they are often shown to be slow, and the weapons they use require so much energy-s"

"What kind of Giant Robot is like that? The ones from _Evangelion?_ No, I mean _proper_ giant robots, like the ones from _Gundam_."

"Ahhh… you mean to turn this into another _Evangelion_ vs _Gundam_ debate, don't you?"

"You cannot deny that the _Gundam_ robots are more powerful."

"You cannot deny that _Gundam_ in general is not the best example of intelligent or informed writing."

"Oh, and twenty episodes of a coward ending in ten minutes of people shouting congra-"

Their radios buzzed and Asato lifted his radio set to ask, "Please repeat your last?"

"Large civilian group approaching from the East," the comms officer stated. "Departed from the Settlement several minutes ago. We are trying to get information from our Settlement MPs, so use caution."

At that point, Asato and Sanda could see an orange light from around the bend, which slowly seemed to get brighter before they could see a group of people.

Sanda backpedaled several steps to the guard box, then returned with a pair of binoculars. He reviewed the oncoming crowd then passed the set over to Asato. In the group's torchlight, he could see many men, but also some women and children of all races. As he adjusted the focus he could see their mouths moving.

"Be advised," he called into his radio, "We can see the group… distance about two hundred meters. Men, women, and children. Please advise."

The last part seemed to catch the soldier on the other end off guard. "Children too? Hold a moment, please."

As they waited, Asato could begin to hear chanting. If he strained and thought back through his understanding of the local language, he could understand one of the verses:

 _Oh goddess of_

 _The world of stone_

 _Of mud and rock_

 _Of grave and bone_

"Orders?" Asato asked his radio set. He didn't like the sound of what he was hearing, and found himself backpedaling a step.

"We're working on it. Please wait."

 _Who firms the ground_

 _On which we stand_

 _Who tears the caves_

 _Who grinds the sand_

By this point, the Leading Private was starting to pick out individual faces without the aid of binoculars. "Update, please?" Sanda asked into his radio.

"We were concerned that this may be a kind of riot, but the presence of children has our cultural specialists wondering if this is purely a religious item. We are sending a truck with loudspeakers and more soldiers."

' _Tis Hardy of_

 _Those shadowed plains_

 _And kingdoms built_

 _On Man's remains._

It was in unison too. Asato looked over to see that Sanda had hefted his rifle and said, "What are you doing?"

"Preparing for trouble." Sanda said.

"But there are children over there!"

"I noticed."

 _Ensnare the ones_

 _That ought to know_

 _Who dwells within_

 _The Land Below._

Asato turned at the noise of a pair to trucks unloading additional SDF soldiers, one of which was a Master Sergeant who lifted a bullhorn towards the crowd and shouted, "This area is under the direct jurisdiction of the Japan Self Defense Forces. You are not permitted to assemble here. Return to the settlement at once!"

But the crowd wasn't listening. The chanting continued, and now they were less than half a football field away, their footsteps and words seeming to pick up pace. Asato could feel his heartbeat picking up with it, as he noticed more and more of the soldiers around him begin to grasp their weapons. _They must turn away,_ he told himself. _They must!_

It was Sanda who leveled a weapon first, prompting the Master Sergeant to shout, "What are you doing?"

"They aren't stopping!" Sanda called, and more than a few other soldiers began to click off their safeties.

 _Ensnare the ones_

 _That ought to know_

"Stop!" The Master Sergeant Shouted through his bullhorn. "Stop, or you will be fired upon!"

 _Who dwells within_

 _The Land Below_

They were hardly fifteen paces away now, close enough for Asato to see the wild brown eyes of a girl in front, no more than eight or nine. _She doesn't want to be here,_ he thought. _She shouldn't be here!_ There are had to be some reason, _any_ other reason-which was when he noticed the hand of an older man on her shoulder, pushing her along. The leading private's gaze went up the man's arm, through his shoulders, and down the man's other arm, to his hand, which was buried in his robes.

He understood what had happened.

"They're armed!" Asato shouted. "Sir, they're armed!"

And it was at that point, ten paces away from the entry, that a hundred men produced a hundred swords, and charged at the soldiers.

* * *

Carol was in her private room, finishing an email to NASA Administrator Kosinski when she heard the popping noises. She rolled her eyes-even this late at night, Hazama couldn't give his men a rest? Surely they could find a better time to do live-fire training—

The alarm came on next, and Carol had enough time to wonder, _if this were a drill, would—_ before someone started pounding on her door. From outside, she heard Schumer shout, "Dawson, open up!"

Fortunately, she was still dressed, so she threw on some shoes, opened the door, and saw Technical Sergeant Schumer standing there in full battle gear, rifle unslung. Behind him, Foster was in a similar getup, listening closely to his radio. "We need to go, _now_ ," Schumer said.

The scientist quickly grabbed a windbreaker and joined the two airmen in the hall, who quickly moved her down the hallway. Carol noticed that, even though they were inside the on-loan barracks building, Schumer was still leading her and Foster trailing her… and Schumer was consistently glancing around corners before having her proceed. It was a bad sign.

They were almost out to the Humvee when Carol finally asked. "What's going on?"

"We're under attack," Schumer said. "Our orders are to get you to the hangar rally point."

 _Under attack?_ Carol had witnessed firsthand the pitiful technological level of the civilians and couldn't help but wonder _how?_ They didn't have guns, and they sure as hell weren't a match for the JSDF.

Also…

"Why the hangar? Shouldn't we be going back through the Gate?"

"No ma'am. The HML's at the hangar."

Which was when she realized—even if the people of Falmart had, by chance, come up with a weapon to repel the Japanese, the USAF airmen couldn't leave—the Russians and Chinese would not allow Midgetman back through the Gate, which meant that they had to stay!

As Foster shoved her into the truck, she asked, "Am I—are we in danger?"

Neither soldier answered her. Schumer gunned the ignition, and the vehicle took off across the base for the airfield.

* * *

Greta held her ears and tried to turn away from the blaring alarm, but it was no use; the Japanese had installed the noise towers everywhere.

Worse still was the floodlights starting to snap on all over the base, throwing long shadows everywhere as men and women with guns charged out of buildings and seemingly in all directions. From somewhere she heard more shots go off, and tried to run in the opposite direction. By that point, she was so disoriented that she turned a corner and crashed face first into Takagi.

"You?" Takagi had her sidearm out, and was pointing it squarely at Greta. "What are you doing here? Are you with them!?"

" _Who's attacking us?_ " Greta cried. "I don't know what's going on! I'm scared! I'm—"

The interpreter lowered the pistol and, placing a hand on Greta's shoulder said, "Go back to your quarters. Stay there until the sirens stop."

"But I have a message!" Greta said, holding up the letter for Takagi to see. "Rory says-s"

"Rory?" Takagi grabbed the letter and glanced through it herself. "Whatever Rory had to say, she's too late. We're already under attack, that means Carol is already in danger."

"Then why send me when Carol already has a hundred US Airmen with guns and cars and helicopters? I have to find Carol!"

"You'll never make it! The USAF has the hanger with the rocket launcher surrounded. Greta, they will shoot you on sight!"

Greta regained her footing. "I'm sorry, I have to try" she said, and sprinted off into the darkness towards the airstrip, ignoring Takagi's shouted pleas as she ran.

* * *

Of course, Carol still had more questions. "Where's Greta? Where's Takagi?" but got no response. Eventually, they heard a warbling over the Humvee's radio, and Foster slammed his hand down on the dashboard. "The dumb fucks! Why the fuck would they do that?"

"People are stupid," Schumer said.

"I'll bet it was that fucktard with the Hardy hard-on."

"Will someone _please_ tell me what's going on?" Carol called. "Who's attacking us?"

"After the conference, Nariv went to the Alnus Settlement where he was recruited by a religious proselytizer." Schumer stated. "They formed a mob by claiming that our connection to the Rondel Council was an attack on Elange. They approached the base East Entry with human shields, and attacked the JSDF at close range. Some of them got into the base, so the alarms went off, and here we are. Not much else we can do until Hazama sounds the all-clear."

"So… we're not in danger?"

"Even if we aren't, this is the procedure."

This just raised more questions, but by that point they were approaching the hangar. Carol noticed that USAF airmen had formed a perimeter around the hangar with Humvees and trucks, headlights on and blaring outwards in all directions so that the airmen and their rifles seemed like shadows on first approach. Once they were waved through the first perimeter, Schumer stopped the Humvee in front of the hangar, "Your stop," Schumer said, and pointed. "See Mullan? He's over there. We're ordered to hand you over to him."

Carol dismounted from the Humvee, and watched as Schumer hit the gas again and raced the vehicle back out to help plug a gap in the vehicle ring. Once she entered the hangar, things got stranger still.

HML-2 was on… which was to say that the engine was started, and maintenance men were swarming over the vehicle. A large panel on the missile compartment was open, and she could see cables leading from a hardened laptop into the Midgetman's nose cone.

Mullan was standing at a phone on the hangar wall, clearly finishing a conversation. "So to confirm, General," he said into the handset, "You believe this attack is being spurred by a human individual, and there's no connection to our primary concern?"

Some noise from other side of the phone as Hazama replied, then Mullan said, "That's good to hear. Do you want me to send my pararescuemen for the wounded?"

More noise, then Mullan concluded, "If you say so. Let me know if you change your mind."

As he put the handset back on the receiver, a tall man in specialist gear approached Mullan and asked, "Should we go in, sir?"

The Colonel gave an irritated sigh and said, "Hazama said he's got it."

"But they engaged at close range. They probably have guys injured out there, along with any civilians that got mixed up in this."

"Hines, I agree with you, but Hazama wants us to stick to the damn rocket, so we're sticking to the damn rocket. Besides, there might be a smarter second wave that goes after the airfield fence instead of trying one of the concrete walls."

Captain Hines threw up his hands and said, "We dealt with this shit all the time in Afghanistan. It's literally our job, and the Japs want us to sit on our asses? What the hell, sir?"

Before Mullan could reply, he glanced over and noticed Carol standing there observing them. "Hello, Dr. Dawson," he said grimly.

Carol looked over him towards the vehicle. The panel was still open, leaving her to wonder, "Were you working on something? I noticed that the HML was running when I got here."

It was very quick, but she perceived Mullan give a slight wince before replying. "That? We have the option to move the HML closer to the base if we want JSDF fire support, but it doesn't look like we'll need it. The cables are the last guidance update from Lockheed Martin...assuming that we ever get this thing to fly."

"Well…" Carol said with a shrug, "I am a rocket engineer. I could—"

Outside, someone was shouting, so Mullan grabbed Hines' radio and asked, "What the hell's going on?"

* * *

By this point, Greta had encountered the airmen many times, and they were usually friendly, reasonable folks. Even Captain Hines and his group were no grouchier than the manor guards that she used to meet with her sister. The Japanese, as far as she had experienced, were the same way.

Not tonight, though.

Tonight, she found herself staring into the headlights of several of their Humvees, while the men atop them shouted in a language she didn't understand. After all, Carol and Takagi had consistently used Japanese with her, as had Professor Shirai, while the guards Schumer and Foster rarely talked to her. When they did, it had also been in pieced-together, broken Japanese.

She simply hadn't had the time to learn English, and both Carol and Takagi had pessimistically claimed that even if she studied it every day for a year, she would be far from mastering it.

So, when the airmen began shouting in her direction, she didn't know what to do. She froze first, then lifted Rory's letter above her head, so they could see it, and tried to take another step.

More shouting from the men with guns. "I have a letter!" she shouted back at them. "I must deliver this to Carol Dawson!"

But they didn't hear her-either because she was too far away or the noise of the vehicle engines and alarm, she wasn't certain. Perhaps if she got closer…

A dozen guns came up or rotated to point at her. The Security Forces with their rifles, the Humvee soldiers and their big "machine" guns, even some maintenance men and their pistols.

Next thing Greta knew, half a dozen men in special gear ran up to her, rifles out and pointing in her direction, shouting as they did. She held the letter out to them, but the noise just got louder, and now it had an air of urgency that terrified her. She began to cry, but she couldn't move.

She was terrified.

* * *

By this point, Carol could see airmen running across the field in front of the hangar, and many of the maintenance men around her were producing side arms and taking up positions. "What—" she started, but the maintenance men began to push her away from the hangar entrance. Outside, she heard the Security Forces shouting at the invisible assailant.

" _Get on the ground! GET THE FUCK DOWN!_ "

Mullan and Hines had rushed to the edge of the hangar to get a better look. By this point, she was nearly up against the open panel of the HML, and could see the edge of Midgetman's upper interstage poking out at her. _It's a dummy rocket.,_ she thought. _It's an_ old _dummy rocket, so why hasn't Mullan asked for my thoughts on fixing it? The technical specifications can't be_ that _obvious just by looking at it. And hasn't Congress cancelled this thing half a dozen times anyway? Mullan himself said that it's a museum piece, so what is he so afraid of?_

Rory's words appeared in her head. _That man has fear enough for the both of you._

She backed up one more foot, then took a quick glance inside, at the back end of the nosecone.

That was all it took, a single glance, and she regretted it instantly.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Hines shouted, "GET HER OUT OF THERE!"

What felt like a dozen arms grabbed her all at once, throwing her away from the launcher and onto the ground, but it wouldn't have been necessary. She was ready to faint anyway. She knew what she'd seen. " _That's—_ "

"DON'T LET HER TALK!" Mullan yelled. "KNOCK HER OUT, WHATEVER IT TAKES!"

She barely felt the blow to the head, nor did she feel a pararescueman jab her with a needle as the world began to go blurry. The drugs were only speeding things up.

The object in the nose cone was not a haphazard collection of guidance and scientific instruments. It was a polished, silvery sphere, of the kind she had seen in documentaries and the rare Air Force museum.

And even as the shadows slipped over her eyes, Carol could hear Rory's voice mocking her. _Any sane man will tell you that there is a darkness to the world; things worth being afraid of, things you have little or no control over. To some, things worth praying to a god about._

The object on the end of the third Midgetman missile wasn't a science capsule at all.

It was a bomb.

It was a _nuclear_ bomb.

* * *

 _From the author_

 **1\. What!?** _ **Why!?**_

This will be the primary, if not the sole focus of the next chapter.

 **2\. Where the hell is this coming from?**

This was the plan from the beginning. Go back and reread chapter 1.

 **3\. But Mullan said…**

OpSec.


	11. Chapter 11: MECO

**Chapter 11: MECO**

 **EIGHT HOURS LATER**

 **Yokosuka Naval Hospital, Japan**

Carol awoke to find herself in a hospital bed, in a private room, on the second floor of a building. She knew that she was back in Japan the same way that she knew that she was on the second floor; she could just barely see through the room's window blinds, and could pick out the sprawling buildings of a larger complex beyond, illuminated by midmorning daylight.

She went to raise a hand to rub her throbbing head, but her arm snapped to a halt after a few inches; restrained to the bed frame by straps. In the end, she let her hand drop again, looked up to the ceiling, and tried to make sense of what she'd seen the night before.

The United States Air Force had deployed a nuclear weapon to the Special Region. With the aid of the HML, it could be deployed against a target anywhere on Falmart within minutes, and the whole machine and concept had been sold to both the natives and many of Japan's soldiers as a slapdash means of creating a space program. For a week and a half, she had extolled the rockets to a mixed audience, drummed up support among commoners and academics alike, all while Mullan prepared to use a similar rocket to deliver the single most dangerous kind of weapon that America possessed. That _any_ nation possessed.

There was no good reason for the United States to want to support a Space Program beyond the Gate, and even if there was, the whole thing probably could have been done more efficiently with real sounding rockets. Japan manufactured similar rockets, so there wouldn't have been much of a reason to ask the US for assistance at all.

 _How did I miss it?_ But instead of being able to properly settle on any clues, all Carol could think of was Rory Mercury, uncomfortably close, halberd blocking out the sun as she whispered, "Perhaps if you had a bit more fear in your life, you would understand why I am so curious about your missile."

Which was when she realized… the little creep had figured it out! Rory had already guessed correctly at the true nature of the weapon. And she didn't even know what an atomic bomb was, nor did she have any kind of engineering background to demonstrate how it was deployed.

Perhaps the better question was, _how the hell did_ _ **Rory**_ _figure it out?_

Rory would have had access to three sources of information: the first rocket launch, Itami Youji, and their brief talk before the second rocket launch.

If the Apostle had watched the first launch from Italica, she would have seen the rocket go up… and if she had been patient enough, she would have seen the plasma trail as the reentry vehicle made its way back through the atmosphere. Surely she would have asked Itami what it was, and if Itami hadn't guessed that it was a nuke himself, he could at least positively identify that the rocket was American-made.

And once _that_ piece of information got out, she could almost hear Mullan hiss the word _Hakone_. There was something foul that had happened between America and Japan, and yet Japan was asking for something from America anyway. To Rory, who was expecting the rocket to produce some kind of explosion (likely having seen Cobra-mounted rocket pods during other battles) this meant that at least one American rocket was likely explosive tipped.

What had likely sealed this as the answer for Rory was the talk by HML-3. Carol had spun her a story about a scientific payload, completely oblivious to the thing lurking inside HML-2. When she had told Rory about it, it was with the belief that she was speaking the truth. With Mullan, Rory had caught on to the gravity of the subject matter and realized that Mullan was lying. If the weapon in question was scary enough that the Americans were being dishonest about it to their allies, that was one thing… but if the weapon was so dangerous that even Carol had been left out of the loop, then this confirmed it—it was not a normal explosive, but a weapon so fearsome that even the Americans were afraid to talk about it.

Of course, when Carol had tried to reassure her once more that it was a scientific payload, Rory had looked up at her and answered with a more eloquent version of, "No. You're a dumbass."

Beyond that, Rory had kept quiet, since not even she knew how powerful the weapon was, or if it could be deployed against her.

The door to Carol's room opened, and Colonel Mullan, a briefcase in his hand, entered and shut the door behind him. She tried to offer him the steeliest gaze she could, but she knew that a person tied down to a hospital bed could only appear to be so threatening.

Mullan pulled up a chair, sat down, opened the briefcase and withdrew a pen and sheet of paper. "I know you have questions," he said. "But I need you to sign this before I can answer any of them. It basically says that if you repeat anything that gets discussed in this room, then you get sent to Federal Prison."

"And If I refuse to sign?" Carol spat.

"Then you get sent to Federal Prison."

"And if I do sign, you'll let me go home?"

"It's not that simple, of course. With things like this it never is, but your best shot of seeing your house again involves your signature on that form."

The Colonel hadn't offered much of a choice, so she nodded, signed, and waited as Mullan pulled a laptop out of the briefcase next, set it on a tray in front of her, and started a video conferencing application.

When Mullan had met Carol for the first time, she had never seen him before. The man on the screen was a different story. "Hello, Dr. Dawson," he said. "My name is Robert Clayton. I'm the United States Secretary of Defense."

 _Fake space programs, nukes, and now the Secretary of Defense,_ Carol thought. _How deep does this go?_

"Before we begin," Clayton said, leaning closer to the camera, "I want to clear up any misconceptions that you have about our intent, so let me ask you: Why do you think that Japan, the most anti-nuclear country on the planet, would have us bring a nuclear weapon to the Special Region?"

The reason seemed obvious enough to her. "To win the war, of course," she said. "You plan on using it against Zorzal."

Clayton sighed and shook his head. "Colonel," he said. "Would you mind?"

"Not only have the JSDF known exactly where Zorzal is for months," the Colonel said, "but they have a guy on the inside that could probably take him down on a minute's notice. Even if that guy didn't exist, Zorzal's operating out of a manor on the northeast side of Telta. _Brick, mortar, and wood._ It's not exactly Cheyenne Mountain, and it sure as hell isn't a good reason to deploy a five hundred kiloton nuke."

That made no sense to Carol. "If they know where he is, why haven't the Japanese bombed him already?"

"They claim that Pina can only achieve victory and dominion over the Empire if she defeats Zorzal in direct combat," Clayton said, folding his arms. "It's a cultural thing, apparently. If the JSDF did it themselves, then _they_ would be the rightful owners of the Empire, not Pina. Japan simply doesn't have the money or infrastructure to spare for a project of that scope… and all the political capital in the world wouldn't reduce media shitstorm from the surrounding Asian countries.

"And before you ask why they don't give Pina a gun and fly her out to Telta, we've already had that conversation with the Japanese and got nowhere. Bottom line is that, no, we aren't going to nuke Zorzal. Any other guesses?"

Carol tried to think over the Special Region for a reason that would merit such a weapon, and tried, "Maybe a second Gate opened up, and China or—"

She stopped at the strange looks that the two men were giving her. Thinking over it again, that idea was also stupid—a nuclear attack against another major power like China or Russia, even in the Special Region, would easily turn into a nuclear war back on Earth. _Not happening._

"Okay," she said. "I have no idea. Why did you bring a nuke to the Special Region?"

Clayton sat back in his chair, unfolded his arms, and asked, "How much do you know about the Gods of Falmart?"

"The Gods of Falmart?" Carol couldn't quite see the connection. "It's a Polytheistic religion. They tie various gods of goddesses to things in their world, kind of like the Native Americans or Polynesians or Ancient Greeks. We had Athena, Hades, Ares, and Apollo, they have La, Hardy, Emroy, and Flare. Since education on Falmart isn't as widespread as it is here, most people attribute natural phenomena to the Gods. Even the academics at Rondel still believe that the Gods control their universe."

"Carol," Mullan said. " _They're technically right_."

She looked back and forth between the Air Force officer and the man on the screen. "What?"

"The Gods and Goddesses of Falmart are real," Clayton said. "And I don't mean in a spiritual sense, like we have on Earth. I mean, you can go to a place, _talk_ to one, and they can proceed to affect natural phenomena on Falmart as they see fit."

Mullan pulled a dossier from his briefcase and handed it to Carol, who opened to the first page.

REGARDING THE BELLNAHGO EXPEDITION, AND THE GODDESS HARDY

1st. Lieutenant Yanagida

"To give you the short version," Clayton said. "A few weeks after their presentation at the Japanese Diet, Itami Youji was invited to meet with the Goddess Hardy in the northern city of Bellnahgo. The being he described was an ethereal ghost-like presence that could take over the bodies of others to use as a mouthpiece. Apparently, Hardy can influence the direction of breezes, can biologically manipulate those she directly controls, and is solely responsible for punching a hole through space-time from Alnus to Tokyo.

"About two weeks prior, Japan had stepped on the proverbial dragon's tail by attacking Hardy's Flame Dragons. Once the details of this report made it to their Defense Minister, they realized that they'd dug themselves into a hole, and they came to us to ask about the bomb."

"And you just said yes?"

" _Hell no!_ I told Defense Minister Kano to take a long walk of a short pier and hanged up the phone on him."

"But he obviously got you back to the negotiating table, since there's a nuclear weapon at Alnus right now," Carol pointed out. "What did he say to change your mind?"

She should have guessed the answer, and even as the question left her lips, she knew what the answer was going to be.

" _Hakone_." Mullan said.

And there it was… Carol looked to Clayton and said, "Hazama and Mullan were very evasive about this in the past, so I'm asking you. What's Hakone?"

The Secretary of Defense frowned and looked away. "Here's another question," he said. "Why would the United States want to go into the Special Region?"

"Trade, maybe?"

"They have no middle class, and their aristocracy is about to get shouldered with war reparations to Japan. There's no one with the money to trade with."

"Oil, then."

"To set up the overland infrastructure to carry the oil would cost billions, and that's just to get it into Tokyo. It would still need to be loaded onto ships and hauled across the Pacific. By the time it makes it into a soccer mom's gas tank, it's a hundred times more expensive than if we'd bought it from the Saudis or Canada. In other words, there's no mineral value to the Special Region, and I only hope that the Japanese figure this out before they crash their economy learning that fact. So, no, not oil. Not now, and not in any war prior to now."

"Then I don't know. What does America want from the Special Region?"

Clayton looked back to her. "Intellectual Property."

Carol blanked at that response. " _Patents_?" she said. "You want to go to Falmart for _patents_?"

"NASA Administrator Kosinski was correct," Mullan said. "The Special Region is our only known example of a life-bearing exoplanet. This means that every demihuman, every insect, every tree, even the germs are a biomedical goldmine. When reports of a world beyond the Gate were released to the public, it wasn't the mining corporations that were drooling, it was the pharmaceutical industry."

"There's magic too," Clayton added. "We know from the Diet interview that it works on our world, so it must draw on some scientific principle that applies on both sides of the Gate. If we can apply it to technology, who knows how deep that rabbit hole goes? Free energy? Artificial Gravity? You're a rocket engineer; imagine a space probe that requires no fuel, has a power generator that never runs out, and can construct additional science instruments at its destination.

"And yes, the thought of weaponizing magic has crossed our minds. If the fundamental principle is discovered, and we don't do it first, then someone else inevitably will. Magic is the new Nuclear Fission, so to speak."

"How do patents translate to Hakone?" Carol asked.

"Japan didn't want us to go through the Gate," Mullan said. "They still don't want us there, that's why they put so many restrictions on us and prevent us from leaving Alnus. Just like us, they have national interests, and Japanese pharma companies produce their own patents. Samples were being transported by armored truck, and the results weren't being shared with anyone. Then, one day, Itami Youji shows up at Japan's National Diet with three people of interest. Two of them are magic users, and two of them claim to be over a hundred and fifty years old but with the bodies of teenagers. The second the conference ended, President Dirrel called an emergency meeting.

"The topic of the meeting was Russia and China. Both countries had reached most of the same conclusions that we did about SR biology and magic, and a combination of CIA, DIA, and NSA sources told us that they had already deployed armed agents to Tokyo.

"Like I said, Magic is the new Nuclear Fission, so that's where the argument started. National Security Advisor Nelson insisted that we go in and grab Itami's group, or else risk Russia or China developing magic weapons before we could create a proper deterrence. I argued that Russia and China were waiting to see if _we_ went in, because it would mean that Japan wasn't receiving American protection with regards to Special Region assets, and would result in a three-way firefight. After half an hour of shouting at each other, the President called the meeting off, and I found myself boarding a plane for a NATO meeting in Brussels."

Clayton rolled his eyes. "The President didn't have the balls to commit either way and put it to a vote. Nelson's side won by one person. At Three AM, Tokyo time, a CIA Special Activities group moved on Sankai Resort in Hakone. As I predicted, the Chinese and Russians took this as a signal and sent in their own men. Initially, this resulted in a firefight with JSDF Special Forces, but Dirrel blackmailed then-Prime Minister Motoi with an NSA intercept and got the JSDF to withdraw. All three forces arrived at Sankai Resort at about the same time."

He paused and Carol asked. "What happened?"

" _Rory_ happened." Clayton spat. "For all the information that the CIA and DIA had collected on Rory, they managed to miss the part about her being immune to bullets. Try to imagine… Americans vs. Russians vs. Chinese with Rory playing blender with her halberd in the middle.

"I was told during an after-meeting dinner event, and immediately tried to contact the President, but I couldn't get through the flurry of shit that was already flying through the White House as the various Departments went into Damage Control mode. I immediately jumped onto the next flight home.

"By the time that I walked in the door of the West Wing, the entire CIA Far East-Japan branch had been neutralized, half the government was on media-lockdown, and Dirrel was on the verge of a heart attack for causing the worst military fuck-up in US history since Operation Eagle Claw.

"The ultimate agreement between ourselves and the Japanese was that the Hakone Incident would be buried to maintain our current strategic relationship. With China building blue-water fleets and bases in East-Asian waterways, Japan couldn't afford the fallout any more than we could. On our side of the Pacific, we cleared house, and, as far as the general public was concerned, Hakone never took place.

" _That,_ Carol Dawson, is what brought us back to the table. Hardy has the JSDF so terrified that they threatened us with releasing Hakone to the public if we refused to negotiate. So, I sat down with the President and Minister Kano in the Oval Office, they showed us that dossier in front of you, and we worked out a deal. We would give them one bomb. _One._ In exchange, and to prevent them from claiming that the nuke was sent in without their knowledge, they would give us a regular sampling of any new life forms discovered in the Special Region.

"For example, your friend, Greta? Her sister was selected by the Japanese and transferred to us for study. Don't worry, she's being treated immensely well, she has free living accommodations in Virginia, a $50,000-a-year stipend, and has relative freedom to come and go as she pleases—as long as she's accompanied by handlers and agrees to the occasional medical exam.

"The point is, of course, that if Japan were to ever claim either Hakone or an ignorance of the nuclear weapon, then we present the Special Region samples. At best, Japan becomes a liar. At worst, both sides become complicit in government-sanctioned human trade, and the event neutralizes itself. The governments take a hit, but the long-term security interests of both countries remain secured. In the end, Japan gets their nuke, we get our patents, and everyone feels safer.

"This left one problem: how to move a nuclear weapon into the Special Region without alerting anyone in the Special Region to its capability or intended target. This included Japan; this applies to the JSDF enlisted and officers below the rank of Colonel. Further complicating things was the fact that Hardy had demonstrated the ability to overhear conversations at upwards of three hundred kilometers away—she heard Itami talking about her all the way out in Rondel—so the fewer people that knew about the weapons, the better.

"So how do you keep your plan a secret? The answer is simple—you hide your nuclear rocket between two dummy ones and tell everyone that you're starting a space program. Plenty of nations have used the same excuse in the past; Israel used their Shavit rocket to cover development for Jericho-3, and North Korea and Iran are doing something similar as we speak. If you think about it, the Space Race against the Soviets had a similar premise, with technology being traded back and forth between NASA and the DoD. Technology for the Space Shuttle orbits above our heads today in the Air Force X37-B, while technology for Midgetman lives on in the side boosters for ULA's Delta IV rocket… and will someday be used to help carry US astronauts into space atop Atlas V and Vulcan.

"The rest should be self-evident. Hire an uninformed civilian representative to help sell the Space Program story to the natives, and fly two test flights to gather guidance calibration data so you can update the navigation system on the one rocket that matters."

"And it almost worked," Mullan said. "But then, you got into an argument with a Rondel academic about heliocentricity, and here we are."

"That should cover everything," Clayton said. "I've been talking for a while now, and you deserve some words of your own and any questions you still have at this point."

Carol's mind raced to try and process all the points, so all that she could think of to lead with was, "Why did you hit me?"

"Like Secretary Clayton said," Mullan explained, "We do not know the maximum extent of Hardy's hearing radius, except that it doesn't extend beyond the Gate. When you saw the nuke, I thought you were about to say something. Captain Hines sends his deepest regrets and the one who hit you, Master Sergeant Jones, insisted that I ask you how he can make up for it. The United States Government is covering your hospital bills, by the way, so don't worry about that part."

She nodded. She was catching up, slowly. "Hardy's a Goddess," Carol said. "You said that she manifests as some kind of ghost...thing. What makes you believe that a nuclear weapon will actually work?"

"Yanagida's report leads to believe that even though Hardy has a massive active radius, she cannot actually manifest beyond Bellnahgo," Clayton said. "Even Itami stated in his report that the ghost-form of Hardy was unable to talk without possessing a body, leading us to believe that Hardy is somehow tied to Bellnahgo itself. The logic goes that if we remove Bellnahgo from the face of the Special Region, we either remove Hardy along with it, or severely cripple her ability to respond. Now that we have access to magicians and are gaining a fundamental understanding of magic, we're certain that the EM pulse and radiation will be enough to severely disrupt the forces that generate Hardy, and the physical destruction will be enough to expose any hidden sanctums to the effects of the first two."

"If all this is true," Carol said. "Why haven't you launched against Hardy yet?"

"Because first and foremost," Clayton said, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Nuclear weapons are a _deterrence_. They are the option you pick when all other options have run out. We have made it very clear to the Japanese government that we will not launch unless Hardy puts Japan in clear and _immediate_ peril, or unless Hardy launches an attack on the United States itself."

"How would Hardy attack the US? The Gate's in Japan."

Mullan pulled a picture from his briefcase if a bunch of stars. "Maybe Professor Shirai told you about this," he said. "Something is affecting the night sky in Falmart, and whatever it is corresponds to earthquake activity. The obvious answer is some kind of gravity distortion, but Yanagida's report claims that Hardy was involved."

He pulled a second picture and presented it. "This picture isn't from the Special Region. It's in the Cygnus constellation. Same gravity distortion, no detectable mass to provide a cause. They're small enough that amateur astronomers aren't regularly reporting them yet, but the message they send is clear. Hardy is trying to extend her influence to our world as well.

"If that isn't enough for you, consider this: if she can open one Gate, she can open up more Gates. And we _still_ don't have a clear picture of how many other military cultures exist beyond Falmart. What if a Gate were to open on the National Mall or in Times Square? Our armed forces would handle the enemy empire. The _nuke_ would handle Hardy."

"What if the other Gods retaliate?" Carol said.

"If we're successful in killing Hardy, would they have the guts to try?"

"Why rockets?" Carol added. "Can't you just drop a nuke from a plane?"

"The Japanese have already demonstrated to the Special Region how that works," Mullan said. "Since we know that Hardy can control air currents, the Japanese were concerned that the bomb or the plane could be knocked away if Hardy were to, say, generate a tornado or hurricane-force winds. A suborbital reentry vehicle moving at seven kilometers per second—that's Mach twenty-something—solves this problem, because wind no longer matters at speeds like that."

"What did you need _me_ for? Couldn't an Air Force Airman have been given my job, then sworn to secrecy?"

"That would have worked on the locals, but not on the Japanese enlisted," Mullan said. "Remember, the goal is to keep _anyone_ from blabbing about nukes. Japan's populace is still heavily anti-nuclear, and the last thing we needed was some Private deciding to speak his mind to the locals. Only Hazama and his Colonels know the truth about the bomb. They were informed here in Tokyo, where Hardy couldn't hear them, and where they could be replaced if they disagreed with the Diet's decision. You're a civilian, so they trust you. Even Itami couldn't figure out what your angle was, and left your orbital science lecture thinking that you were some smart lady who works for NASA. That is _precisely_ what we wanted."

"But no one's perfect," Carol argued. "Surely one of your men has been drunk or high or tired and let something slip. I refuse to believe that no one, Japanese or American, mentioned Hiroshima and Nagasaki at some point."

"If they have, we don't know about it," Mullan said. "And if they did, then either Hardy doesn't know what to make of it, or she has some other reason for not attacking us yet. It's one of _two_ things that keep me up at night. That reminds me, do you know if Rory was ever told about it?"

Carol explained how she suspected that Rory had deduced the true nature of the rocket launches, then asked, "Why do you ask?"

Mullan explained what had happened with Greta the night before, and produced Rory's letter. "We thought that the peril in question was Nariv's angry mob," Mullan explained. "But on second reading, she likely meant the nuke, without knowing exactly what it was. We were being pretty shady about it."

"Oh, and Greta's fine," he added. "Shaken up, but fine. Takagi is taking her shopping in Osaka today."

Carol couldn't help but smile at the idea of wide-eyed Greta, face pressed against a train window as the Japanese cityscape zipped by. "You said that her sister was in America," she said. "Is there any chance that we can take her over there and get the two back together again?"

"We can do that," Clayton said. "You can go with her, if you want. It would probably be good for both of you to get away from it all before going back to the Special Region… if you feel like going back."

"I broke the rules, though," Carol said. "Why would you send me back?"

"Because your general absence after the first and second rocket launches is what messed us up with the natives," Mullan said. "Now Japan wants to launch a satellite on an Epsilon rocket—heaven knows why—and we still need someone to explain what's going on… and what the new star floating through the sky is supposed to be. I meant it back at Kennedy when I said that you were the best person for the job. The pool of Japanese-English bilingual NASA rocket engineers with PR experience is really, really small, and the people over there already trust you."

Before she could answer, he held up a hand and said, "Don't give me your response now. Go with Greta to Washington D.C., think it over, then let us know what you want to do."

The Secretary of Defense glanced at his watch and said. "I have a meeting coming up. Did you have any additional questions?"

"No, I think I understand all of it. Thank you, sir," Carol said.

Mullan closed the laptop and said, "Once the paperwork goes through, which should only take a few minutes, someone will be around to get the restraints off you. Since we're in a Navy hospital, a sailor will be outside if you need to use the restroom. I'm sorry, Carol, but you're going to be watched over for a while. I hope you understand."

Carol nodded then, just as the Colonel was about to leave, she said, "One last question. You said there were two things that kept you up at night. What was the other thing?"

Mullan closed his briefcase with a snap and looked up at her. When he did, she noticed how tired he looked. Between her, the nuke, and the excitement from the night before, she wouldn't have been surprised if he hadn't slept at all. "The other thing," he repeated, then said. "I worked with the 91st Missile Wing out of North Dakota before all of this. Something that everyone there understood was that the only time a Minuteman III would likely ever leave its silo would be on the end of a crane. That's because no matter how bad things got, we knew that no one was ever going to use those rockets. They couldn't. If they did, it would mean the end of the world. It's not like that in the Special Region; if the President orders that bird to fly, it flies.

He stopped, stared off into space for a moment, then added. "Bellnagho, as far as the war goes, is a neutral city. Its citizens have never bothered Japan, and were perfectly hospitable to Itami and his group during their stay—and before you ask, the idiot who started the riot was from one of the sacked towns to the East of Italica. Bellnahgo has a population of a hundred and twenty thousand civilians, with another ten to thirty thousand living in the projected blast and fallout radius. If we launch the nuke, it would be the single largest massacre of civilians since Nagasaki."

Mullan made his way to the door, but before he left he added, "I know you're not religious, Carol, but if you wouldn't mind, pray that the rocket never leaves the ground. I don't know what I'd do with myself after it did."

* * *

 **Author's note:** astute manga and LN readers will have noticed something important in this conversation. If you correctly identified it, you will know how the rest of this story goes down.


	12. Chapter 12: Stage Separation

**Chapter 12: Stage Separation**

 **JUST BEFORE SUNRISE**

 **Two Kilometers outside of the Alnus Settlement**

On a hill beyond Alnus, two members of JSGDF Special Operations Team Archer adjusted the focus on their scopes as they watched the robed man leave the settlement.

The robed man was Nariv El Delsus, and he was a coward.

While a few hundred others had marched on the East entry to the JSDF base, Nariv had slipped into a side street and waited to hear of the outcome from a room on the Western side of the Settlement.

What he had heard instead was a flurry of gunfire, shouts, and the screams of the injured drifting through the night. Word came back early the next morning that even though the mob had made it into the base, they hadn't made it particularly far, and every man or woman holding something that could be interpreted as a weapon had been shot.

So he hid, stole a large, bulky robe that covered his face, and planned to make his escape the next morning, before the JSDF figured out that he had been involved.

What he hadn't counted on was the Japanese and their radios. MPs stationed in the settlement had already informed their commanding officers of Nariv's involvement, and the decision had been made to intercept him far outside the city. The civilians in the settlement were already rattled enough from the night's events, and there was no need to make a bad diplomatic situation even worse.

They had debated attacking him at close range, but since they weren't sure if Nariv was a magician or not, they decided that a long-range attack would be safer.

And so, Archer-1 called out the range to Archer-2, who made some final adjustments with his Remington M24 sniper rifle, and, after a small eternity, pulled the trigger.

One could argue that it was ultimately science that killed Nariv El Delsus. The bullet was accelerated from rest by chemical combustion and kept from tumbling through rotational inertia. The shooter accounted for atmospheric effects including air resistance, wind direction, and even the rotation of the planet. Yet, even if these things were considered, the bullet would have passed a few inches over Nariv's head, if not for one important principle.

Indeed, it was Gravity, the same invisible force that the Rondel astronomer had bashed two nights before, that pulled the shot down by the remaining few inches needed for the bullet to blast his head from his shoulders.

Archer-1 keyed his radio. "Target down," he said. "Moving in for cleanup."

* * *

 **TWO HOURS LATER**

 **Alnus FOB HQ, Alnus**

Mullan accepted the cup of coffee from Hazama's aide, suppressed a wince at the bitter taste, and said, "Honestly, General, it was a tough call. Your men did what they had to do, and you sustained minimal casualties."

Across the table from him, Lieutenant General Hazama looked exhausted, and took off his reading glasses to rub his eyes. "My commanding officer, General Nomura, said the same," he said. "However, he also warned that the Diet may not see it that way."

"The bottom line is that none of your men died. Yes, you have six in critical condition, but you have the luxury of carting them all back through the Gate to world-class medical facilities. The other dozen injured are recovering well enough, and will probably get sent back as well for general checkups. Both of our nations have fought wars where the commanding officer would have sacrificed an arm to have that as an option for their men."

The General looked up at him. "You are missing the point," he said. "A hundred-thirty sword-armed men and women can still be loosely interpreted as civilians. Only a handful survived. And there were children in the crossfire, you know. With Zorzal's insurgency, it's impossible to know if demihuman children are a threat or not, and so we are burying seventeen young people too."

Mullan nodded. "I can't say that I get it myself, but I've heard enough stories from Hines and Garcia that I have at least a little sense of what you're feeling."

"Oh, so they know what it's like to be responsible for firing on children?"

The Colonel looked down into his coffee cup for a moment, arranging his thoughts, then said, "Lieutenant Garcia was telling me this story a few days ago… so he was stationed at Sather Air Base in Iraq, and one morning he gets a call and goes out to see this seven-year-old Iraqi girl standing a dozen yards beyond one of the base gates. And she's all alone and crying, of course, because she has soldiers yelling at her to stay put and stay back. Anyway, their interpreter finally shows up and tells them that she's saying that her father put her in weird clothes and told her to walk to the American airbase or he would beat her and she wouldn't get supper that night."

He stopped, looked at the General and said, "Do you see where this is going?"

"I'm afraid so, but please continue."

"They bring in an EOD robot, and it doesn't have the dexterity to do anything. By this point, Associated Press has noticed the commotion and there's a camera crew following the drama. So, Garcia's standing there, and he has this decision to make. Do you send in a soldier to try and defuse the bomb and risk two lives? Or maybe you force the girl away and leave her to her fate? And how will both look to the audience at home?"

"And?"

Mullan shrugged. "And, while he sat there trying to figure out what to do, the timer on the explosive vest ran out and sprayed bits of the girl all over the road. Wound up being too gory for Cable news, but the story still got attention in print, and Garcia and his CO caught a lot of flak from people at home.

"What I think I'm trying to say, General, is that we get days where every option is the wrong one. The people at home don't know that because they're not here. They don't care that the other guy doesn't fight with the right morals. They don't care that we work every damn day to keep the philosophers at home happy while we do our jobs. All you can really do is try to make the least-bad decision and move on."

Hazama sighed, then said, "I wonder what Hardy thinks of this."

"Yanagida and Itami are your soldiers, and it's their report. You'd know better than I."

"True."

"What do you believe that she thinks?"

"Remorse, I'd hope, at her followers marching into a meat grinder…. but if the Gods of Falmart are anything like its people, then I'd have my doubts."

Seeing that the aide was gone, he tapped on the table, "Ah, but that's why our nations have that agreement. Let us hope that we never need to find out"

"Couldn't agree more."

* * *

"Really?" Yanagida said. "That's all?"

"That's all that Greta told me before she left," Takagi explained. "Free dormitory living conditions, a stipend equivalent to roughly five and a half million yen, and unlimited health care in exchange for cooperation during medical studies. The Americans are making a concentrated effort to keep their guests comfortable."

The interpreter watched as Yanagida's face crumpled into a confused wince. "No major caveats? No refusal of return?"

"You will recall, sir, that the plan was to target mostly people who had few or zero connections remaining in the Special Region," Takagi went on. "And even then… to move from Falmart to guaranteed comfortable living in a first-world nation? A big part of the reason why the Alnus Settlement continues to attract so many people is its proximity to us and, with us, our modern technology. They may not wish to come back."

The intelligence officer thought this over, then asked, "One more question… did they happen to say why Carol Dawson was carried back to Tokyo on a stretcher last night?"

Takagi thought back over it and decided to give him the same response that Schumer had given her. "She slipped and hit her head on the HML."

Yanagida snorted at that one. "Yes, I imagine that it contains a component that is conducive to head injuries. That will be all, Specialist Takagi. You should know before you leave, however, that when Dr. Dawson returns-if she returns-you should expect her to be more guarded when answering questions."

Across from him, Takagi tilted her head. "Why would she?"

"Because I suspect that the American Government has a vested interest in ensuring that no one else _slips_."

* * *

 **Washington Dulles International Airport, Virginia, United States**

Greta gave a squeak and grabbed onto Carol's shoulder as the rear wheels of the Boeing 747-400 touched down, and another as the aircraft rotated forward, allowing its front landing gear to do the same.

"It's okay," Carol said, giving her a nudge. "We're on the ground again."

"Major Kamikoda makes it look so easy! Looking out the window with all the clouds, and the ground getting closer, and the noises as the wing flaps and landing gear came out… I have no idea how he does it."

"People like Kamikoda and the pilot of this airplane have years of training," Carol said. "They know at a glance what's safe and what isn't, and the pilots have lots of computers and warning messages there to help them if they ever get distracted or make a mistake. You're actually in more danger driving around in a car or truck that you are on here."

As the pilot read out the terminal, local time, and baggage claim instructions, Carol thought back over her meeting with Greta after being released from the hospital.

" _What happened to your head?" She'd asked._

" _This?" Carol pointed to the bandage on her head where Master Sergeant Jones had hit her with his rifle. "This is what happens when you get too close to the HML. I got too close to the HML."_

 _It wasn't technically a lie, and it made Carol feel a bit better about her response. Greta seemed to accept this answer though, and said, "I was so scared! The airmen had pushed me to the ground, but Schumer showed up and told everyone who I was and they stopped. His Japanese is terrible, but he told me that I also got too close to the HML, and that I should ask a JSDF soldier to borrow a radio next time."_

"That was a very long flight," Greta pointed out. "How far away did you say Washington D.C. Was from Tokyo?"

"They're on opposite sides of the planet. I… honestly don't have a good comparison."

"But you say that we've circled half the planet in eighteen hours? That's incredible! And a rocket in orbit can match that?"

"Depends how high the orbit is. Low Earth Orbit takes about an hour and a half. The higher the orbit, the slower you go. At the same time, the lower in the atmosphere you are, the slower you go due to air resistance. That's why the airplane goes as high as it does after leaving the ground; to get the best of both."

Greta nodded, then, thinking it over, said, "I wonder what Teesa thought about her first airplane flight?"

Carol patted her on the shoulder and said, "Tomorrow, you'll be able to ask your sister yourself."

"Are you going to go with me?"

"I'd like to, but the arrangements were for you and you alone. That, and _my_ boss wants me to attend a lecture and conference on Special Region science. Since we'll both be getting out at the same time, I'll take you to the Smithsonian, if you want."

"What's a Smithsonian?"

"It's a bunch of museums-galleries of stuff that America has collected over the years and puts on public display. We have art, cultural items, historical artifacts… even one on airplanes and rockets, if you want to see that."

The plane finally stopped at the gate. For a moment, Carol pondered that last word in her head. Gate to gate to gate. It was a universe of new places, and always new things to experience, but the head on your shoulders and the baggage you carried with you remained the same. She had felt the eyes of an inescapable reality drilling into the back of her head for the entire flight.

"Come on, Greta," she said, standing. "Let's go."

They moved together into the aisle, and the two armed, American Intelligence handlers that were sitting behind them stood and followed.


	13. Chapter 13: Fairing Separation

**Chapter 13: Fairing Separation**

 **Along the Row Stream, Northeast of Rondel**

The next thing the courier knew, the Apostle's halberd had crunched through his shoulder, slicing through his lung, heart, intestines, liver, and one kidney before it finally came to rest against his pelvis. Rory allowed him a second more to contemplate his folly—one never drew a knife on an Apostle—before placing a booted leg on his stomach, pushing him off her weapon, then ending his life with a swift chop that send his head flying from his shoulders.

Itami and the others were half a kilometer downstream, questioning the one guard that had surrendered as soon as he saw their LAV. The courier's other guards were scattered in pieces by the riverside, and Rory had outpaced Tuka's arrow in finishing off the man himself.

As pleased as Rory was to see some action, she longed to be with the real fight, against Zorzal and his men near Beza, rather than this backwoods creek. Yet, Hazama had insisted that they remain in this area for a time, until Rondel finished assembling its own army, and evaluate whether travelers had heard of the city's change of allegiance.

It was methodical, which suited people like Lelei and Tuka just fine. It was also boring, which, despite Rory's arguments, had not convinced the Lieutenant to get them sent back to the front. "I like _boring_ ," Itami said. " _Boring_ means that my friends are less likely to get injured, and _boring_ increases the chance of my living to see the next Comiket."

Now that the action was over, Rory patted down the body and located the letter that the man had been carrying. On it was Zorzal's seal.

She opened it and, after browsing it, couldn't help but grin. The contents were fascinating. Not pressing, but fascinating nonetheless. Zorzal was about to make another serious mistake, and it involved a name that she hadn't seen for nearly three centuries.

"Hey!" Itami shouted. "What's that, Rory?"

She quickly closed and folded up the letter. Itami didn't need to see the contents. Not now, not yet. "Oh? Nothing," she said.

"I could see you looking at a piece of paper."

"Fan mail, Itami- _dono_. Don't you know that I'm popular with the warrior class?"

He gave an irritated sigh and extended a hand. "Come on, let me see it."

But Rory wouldn't be deterred. She took the letter and shoved it down the front of her dress. Spreading her arms, she declared to Itami, "Come and claim it!"

As she had come to expect, Itami despaired immediately and said, "Fine. But don't hold out on me for too long, otherwise I'll have Shino or Mari steal it while you're in the bath."

"It's not important," Rory promised. "And when the time comes, I'll gladly present it to you."

* * *

 **The Pentagon, Washington D.C., United States**

Compared to the open stone amphitheaters of the Special Region, the lecture hall hidden within one of the inner rings of the Pentagon was smaller, but packed with the quiet hum of technology that suggested that there were more eyes on the meeting than those of the people physically present. "I've never liked it here," Administrator Kosinski told Carol as they took their seats. "It feel like we're sitting in the middle of some giant bull's eye. _Everyone_ watches you, and they're all armed."

Towards the front of the room, Carol recognized a few other people, including Secretary of Defense Clayton, the Secretary of Energy, and the Director of the NRO. Also present were several civilian agency heads and military officers, including an Air Force General who approached Carol and introduced himself as Eric Barton. Colonel Mullan's superior officer. "Rich hasn't been giving you that much trouble, has he?" The officer asked.

Carol raised a hand to the bandage on her head and replied, "He means well."

At the front of the room, an officer called for silence and for everyone present to take their seats. A suited man promptly took the stage and introduced himself as Director Ed Silcott, from DARPA's Strategic Technology Office.

A projector snapped on, and a slide displayed the title of the presentation.

MANIPULATION OF QUANTUM FIELDS VIA NEURAL INTERFACE WITH UNSTABLE SR-PHIZONS.

(AKA MAGIC)

This brought out some murmurs, of course, to which the Director stated, "Yes, I know. It's a mouthful. We're still piecing together how much of this works, and it's been a bit difficult to reproduce in our world, but we'll get into that during the presentation."

The first proper slide was of the Japanese National Diet. They were all familiar with the picture, Rory Mercury standing at the podium, Halberd in hand, telling off a member of the minority party. "This was the first proper, public indicator of magic to the world," Silcott stated. "We were called up by several physics and medicine professors within minutes of the presentation, all of which who claimed that Rory should not have been able to lift the weapon shown. This lead us to believe that magic must invoke some underlying principle of the universe, and must not be limited to just the Special Region. We found ourselves asking the obvious question: if magic existed in the Special Region, and can be brought to this side of the Gate and still work, what do their people have that isn't present here on Earth? We have only recently been able to answer this question."

The image switched to a series animated loops of fMRI and CT-scans. "The key we were looking for is here," he said pointing to an area of the displayed brain. "While running fMRI tests of magicians from the Special Region, we noticed that magic was triggered by a consistent cascade between this spot on the anterior-left hemisphere and Broca's Area. This is consistent with similar brain functions when it comes to thinking about language—not actually speaking, just thinking about it—and makes us think that there's a language component to directing magic. As long as there's this neuronal relationship between some concept and speech that passes through _this_ area, we see an activation of magic."

Now he pointed to the CT scan image. "But again, Earth humans use this part of their brain as well, so magic doesn't arise simply out of neuroplasticity. While looking for it, we also noticed that X-rays produced by the CT scanner either reduced or blocked the magician's capability to use magic for a period of time. We finally found our culprit while simultaneously having the magician perform magic while the CT machine was running. The result was a sudden drop in reflectivity in that section, _there._ "

One of the officers claimed that he couldn't see it, and Silcott provided a zoomed in, side-by-side comparison of the region. Carol could see it, but just barely. Between the deep grey and absolute black, there wasn't much to discern.

"With this identified, and with the magician's permission, we went in for a sample. We expected to only find brain tissue. What we found instead was far, far more interesting."

The next slide displayed a particle model. Carol was more of an engineer than a chemist, and didn't have as much experience in quantum modeling, but she knew the speculative particle shapes and symbols when she saw them. "We call this an SR-Phizon," Silcott explained. "It's an elementary particle, a lepton, and it seems to bind with Iron and Magnesium. Tests have revealed some very interesting properties. For one, like most of the other particles, Phizons change their field-space when directly measured. So, while electrons will coalesce into one of a few orbits about a proton nucleus in an atom, Phizons collect into a kind of grid that follows gravity lines in relation to a planet. The difference is that we typically think of electrons as being constrained to a given atom or molecule when considering them in relation to the rest of the universe. Not so with Phizons-they are connected to everything, and I mean _everything_ through a stable quantum entanglement connection.

"But I'm sure that you're wondering how elementary particles translates to warping gravity fields or launching ice spikes at people," Silcott said with a smirk. "That's where it gets complicated. As I mentioned, the focus of this discussion is on _unstable_ Phizons. Apparently, when you run the right kind of electric current over Phizons, it bridges the entanglement and allows complex, near-instant manipulation and reconfiguring of particles at the far end. We call it unstable in this state, because some property of transferring quantum information excites the Phizon and causes it and other Phizons around it to become more energetic. This is unpleasant on biological structures, and explains why magicians become fatigued from using magic, or can even kill themselves by using magic too much. The theory for why Phizons become more energetic during use is another long, nasty discussion on quantum foam, gauge bosons, and virtual particles… which are way, way, way over my head and, to be perfectly honest, a real chore to talk about anyway."

Some of the audience members chuckled, and Silcott said, "I'd like to turn the floor over to NASA Administrator Kosinski, to discuss the astronomy aspect of Phizons. Andrew, if you would?"

There was a brief applause as Carol's boss stood and made her way to the front of the room. "Good morning," he said, "On behalf of NASA, I'd like to thank you for your willingness to include us in Phizon research. We pride ourselves in sixty years of cooperation with the Department of Defense, and appreciate your continued trust and patronage.

"Phizons are an odd bunch. Much of the time, when we are examining elementary particles, we are looking for either an electromagnetic aftereffect, or a particle decay like with muons into positrons and neutrinos. Phizons are a pain, because we had to look for cases in the cosmos where radiation was inducing a _decreased_ reflectivity presence. NASA has only recently started thinking in terms of decreased reflectivity when it comes to exoplanet hunting, so we had to come up with an effective way to identify Phizons in deep space before we even started accumulating time on the telescopes.

"What we discovered, we feel, answers the question as to why Phizons are so readily present in the Special Region, but are less common on Earth."

He switched to another view, this time from some satellite instrument. "This picture," he explained, "Is from the Chandra X-ray Observatory, and it's a picture of the Eagle Nebula. If you were to pan up, left, zoom out a bit, and switched from x-rays to visible light, you would see the famous Pillars of Creation photo taken by the Hubble Space Telescope in 1995.

"But the key point of this photo is to discuss completed solar systems sitting within molecular clouds. On the right-hand side of the slide, we see a few systems… you will notice that the ones further away from the nebula have clear spaces in the middle, indicating that the rotation of the solar system and energy from the star has cleared the nebula's molecular cloud from the system, leaving the planets within to be protected from solar radiation by their magnetospheres, if they have them, and whatever atmosphere they have below that. A proto-planet forming in an environment like this cannot support Phizons, as they would deteriorate under radiation exposure from the parent star. But now, look at the system to the left of it. This one is actively moving through the molecular cloud, and continues to pick up nebula materials. In this environment, the planets being formed in such a system get additional protection from their parent star.

"What does this mean? Our scientists at NASA Goddard Space Flight Center have been analyzing imagery of Falmart's night sky, and have concluded that the system is floating on the outer edges of a nebula, not so different from the Eagle Nebula, and that early in the stellar evolution of the Special Region's solar system, their planet was shielded from their host star due to dense materials from a molecular cloud. This allowed Phizons to gather and remain on the planet until the planet gained the necessary systems to guard against solar radiation on its own. Even today, the space above the Special Region contains molecular gas pockets, as expressed by Professor Shirai in a paper about a week ago."

"So, to put it in English, Phizons exist in the Special Region because the system evolved and remained in a stellar nebula. The nebular materials in the Sol system were cleared by the ignition of our sun, and so we don't have the particles to produce magic here today. However, a magician from Falmart can work their magic here because the Phizons are protected by Earth's magnetosphere and ozone layer. Finally, because magic itself relies on unstable Phizons and quantum entanglement, if a magician is conscious of the position of matter on this side of the Gate, they will be able to use their magic just as easily as they would on their side of the Gate."

"That's fine and dandy," a Navy Admiral said, "But in terms of controlling any of this, how do you go about it? And what kind of information are these Phizon things sending that allows such exact manipulation of matter?"

Kosinski and Silcott exchanged a glance before Silcott answered, "We don't know."

"How about the Gate?" A Marine General asked. "Isn't that just a wormhole? Surely a hole from point A to point B should be the easiest part of the whole thing."

"Actually, it's the hardest," Kosinski said, then asked, "How many of you have seen Interstellar?"

Most of the audience raised their hands. "I like that movie because they boil down the basic concept of a wormhole through a non-Euclidean space to an understandable level. Just so we're on the same page, Euclidean Space is where we exist right now, with an up down, left-right, forward-back. A non-Euclidian space is any space that doesn't follow those rules. For example, if you're thinking of a way to go from A to B that skips all points in between, like the Gate, then that's non-Euclidean geometry. In Interstellar, they try to show you this through their own wormhole through space-time. The explanation you see in the movie says that a hole in a piece of paper is a two-dimensional hole in three-dimensional space. The next step up from that is a sphere as a three-dimensional hole in four-dimensional space. One of these that you can pass through, like the one in the movie, would be a four-dimensional hole in five-dimensional non-Euclidean space.

"But here's the problem. The Gate doesn't follow these rules at all. Anyone who's seen camera footage from a vehicle driving through the Gate will tell you that it isn't even a hole, it's a _tube_. And the length of the tube is longer than the depth of the Gate on either side. Where did the tunnel in the middle come from? This means that you have a Euclidean tube functioning as a non-Euclidean object, and this was the point where the MIT think tank got very drunk and called it a night."

The audience laughed. An Air Force General asked, "So if this is true, how do the people of the Special Region rationalize it?"

"Good question. Dr. Carol Dawson is in the back, and she just returned from a special assignment to Falmart. Would you like to add anything, Carol?"

Carol stood. Even in front of an audience of military officers, she wasn't sure if she was allowed to talk about Hardy and the nuke, so instead she talked about her experience with the heliocentricity lecture.

"It's a good question, Dr. Kosinski," she said. "I spent an extensive amount of time talking with a Falmart astronomer about natural theory, and the easiest way to explain it is to begin by coming at it from their direction. To the people of the Special Region, magic was a fact of life even before anyone came up with a scientific method, mathematics, or natural philosophy-science, as we call it today. As a result, whenever they find something that they cannot explain, then it falls into the categories of being a Visible natural property, or an Invisible magic property. If I'm following the conversation correctly, SR-Phizons use quantum entanglement, which is invisible to anyone without the proper instruments. Because of this, any invisible property of the universe needed to have a foundation in magic, or have a visible component that grounded it in the natural world, otherwise it couldn't exist.

"This gave us a bit of a headache, because I was required to come up with a way to explain Gravity to the people over there. They had rejected Gravity at the offset because it wasn't a visible natural property, and it wasn't tied to any known invisible magical action. I solved the problem by arguing that it, like wind, became a visible property when you placed items within it, and they found this acceptable.

"As for how this applies to magic and the Gate, they assume these things work because magic is where they are fundamentally coming from. They don't ask why, any more than we ask why the Universal Gravitational Constant, the irrational number Pi, or any other fundamental piece of our universe is what it is. In short, they feel no need to rationalize it, because that's the way the world is for them."

She sat down, and the Secretary of Energy raised a hand. "You mentioned earlier that an unstable Phizon damages the magician over time as it is being used. Can you describe precisely what kind of damage it is causing? Typically, we expect radiation damage when it comes to particle physics, but you've already said that radiation eliminates or weakens the particle."

"That's correct," Silcott said. "I meant to say this earlier, but now is as good a time as any. Unstable Phizons, in addition to exciting the other Phizons around them, tend to cause a disruption in the electron bonds in proteins and minerals. This manifests in magic users as a disruption in fluids and nutrient fields in that part of the brain, and can cause fatigue, nausea, or seizures. The test subjects mentioned that extreme cases could lead to the death of the user which, if you think about it, would be consistent with the effects of a brain hemorrhage or stroke. Each could easily kill someone in Falmart due to their general lack of medical knowledge and technology.

"This is why we are so keen to come up with a way to utilize unstable Phizons outside of a human brain. Perhaps a headset would be more successful. We have neuroscience teams continuing to study this as we speak, but due to the limited sample that we have of SR-Phizons and our general aversion to drilling into the brains of our special guests, progress has been slow.

"But to review the dangers of unstable Phizons; they excite other Phizons into instability due to quantum entanglement, and they have a degenerative effect on complex molecules and minerals. Going forward, these effects will be the major limitations when it comes to implementing it in technology."

He looked around and said, "We have time for one more question… yes, the General in the corner?"

An Army General asked, "How do these particles get into their brains in the first place?"

"It's in the rocks and soil over there," Silcott said. "They wind up getting transported into the plants, which are then consumed by animals, including humans and demihumans. Since it's an elementary particle, they don't have any issue passing the blood-brain barrier, and as I mentioned earlier, it's being transported by Iron or Magnesium. Again, it has been notoriously difficult to trace, and we're working on seeing if Special Region residents have a reservoir somewhere else in their bodies since the magicians that we CT scan or took the brain sample from were back at full magical capacity within an hour or two.

"So, before you depart, let's review the key points."

He put up one more slide:

 **UNSTABLE SR-Phizons, TL;DR**

 **1) Elementary particle (like electrons).**

 **2) Dissipated by radiation.**

 **3) Uses quantum entanglement to move other particles around.**

 **4) Found in brains, activated by brain signals. Also found in Special Region rocks/dirt/etc.  
**

 **5) Excites other Phizons if left 'on' for too long, can cause surrounding materials to begin falling apart.**

 **6) Found in Special Region because their planet was protected by lots of nebula dust early on. Earth wasn't.**

The conference ended, and Kosinski approached Carol to ask, "Well, what did you think?"

All she could think about was Secretary Clayton's line from nearly two days before. _Now that we have access to magicians and are gaining a fundamental understanding of magic, we're certain that the EM pulse and radiation will be enough to severely disrupt the forces that generate Hardy_. The man had sat in the front row for the entire presentation, not reacting, rarely blinking. What these officers were hearing, he'd already heard long ago and had acted on it. She wondered if this was how members of Obama's cabinet had acted the day before they took down Osama bin Laden.

Instead she said something vaguely related, but far enough that the connection couldn't be made. "So this stuff doesn't mix well with radiation, huh? So much for using this in space probes, then. The Phizons would be dispersed the second that the craft passed through Earth's Van Allen belts."

"Radiation hardening has always been the bugbear of space exploration," Kosinski said and gave her a wink. "Well, we're NASA, right? If a way through doesn't exist, we invent one."

"That reminds me, has anyone from JAXA spoken with you about the instruments that they plan to have on their Epsilon orbital launch?"

Kosinski shrugged. "Visible light camera, radar topography scanner. Maybe a spectroscope… it sounded like a light package, which makes sense since they're going for a polar orbit. Why, upset that they're putting something in orbit before we are? We _did_ lead the way with two suborbital launches."

Carol shrugged. She couldn't say much more, not without bringing up the less-than-pleasant payload sitting on the remaining American rocket at Alnus.

"Well, don't worry about it. There's been… a development… it's very exciting and I want to tell you about it but I can't go into any details because it's still at the proposal stage—"

"Oh, come on," Carol said. "You _want_ to tell me."

"All I can say is that President Dirrell met with three interesting people regarding American rockets in the Special Region."

She gave him a wry grin. "These 'interesting; people, their last names wouldn't happen to begin with B, M, and B respectively, would they?"

"My lips are sealed!"

* * *

 **Arlington, Virginia, United States**

The drive down to her sister's living accommodations was lonely for Greta. The driver did not speak Japanese, and the American guard didn't have much to say. At one point, the guard asked her if she would like to "browse the internet" on his phone, but the device that he handed her was truly alien with its glowing screen, moving pictures and English writing. After five minutes of trying to figure it out without much success, she sighed, passed the object back to the guard, and curled up against the side door.

It was almost noon outside, but her body felt like she'd been awake all night. Indeed, she'd had trouble sleeping the night before, and on the plane, and Carol had spoken about something called Jet-lag, where her body had a chemical timekeeper that needed to readjust itself. The bottom line was that she felt miserable.

She should have been happy that she was going to see Teesa, but as she watched the buildings and giant portraits pass outside the car window, she wondered what they would have to say to each other. Greta's sampling of Earth was a joke compared to weeks of living in a place like this. She could describe the rocket launches and the science lecture, but what if Teesa had seen things like that already?

The car eventually stopped at a tall building (but then, on Earth, all buildings seemed to be taller than they were in Falmart) and the guard led her past the front door where, to Greta's shock, they passed a pair of armed soldiers before they entered an elevator. "We used to use this building for the staff of foreign diplomats," the guard said. "Not anymore."

Together they entered an elevator (Takagi had taken her on a few in Japan, so she was less surprised than she was the first time) and the guard lead her to a room near the end of the hall. There he knocked twice and, on hearing noise from the other side, turned to Greta and stated. "I'll be waiting outside. Once you're ready to go, I'll still be here."

The door opened and, for the first time in two months, Greta found herself standing before her older sister.

Teesa La Sareteian shared Greta's green eyes and some features of her face, but that was about it. She was half a head taller, and her hair was deep black instead of Greta's walnut-brown. She hesitated a moment, then asked, "Greta?"

"It's me, sis."

"Look at you! All cleaned up, T-shirt, jeans and all… I barely recognized you!"

Greta felt the blood rush to her face. True, the American hotel's showers and baths were above-and-beyond superior to anything offered elsewhere in Falmart, and Takagi had managed to outfit her with some 'modern' clothes during her trip to Osaka, but had she really changed all that much?

"Come on in!" her sister beckoned. "I was halfway through the last season of Dancing with the Stars; you've _got_ to see it. The shows they put on are above anything I've seen on the other side of the Gate."

Greta followed her sister into the apartment. It wasn't large, but it wasn't painfully small either. A set of polarized windows looked out over Wilson Boulevard towards the south, and the central room was dominated by a couch, table, and large television. She could also see to a space in one wall to a small kitchen, and a pair of doors to the bathroom and bedroom. It was larger than her loaned room back at Alnus, and it looked very comfortable overall.

Teesa lifted a small black object from the couch, pointed it at the TV screen, and pressed a button, causing the device to turn off. Greta remembered seeing Carol train Flat in how to use such a device for the heliocentricity lecture, but she had never had time to learn herself. After her sister casually tossed the device on the table, she sat on the couch and, patting on the space next to her, said, "Take a seat! So, they decided to let you come too? I'm not surprised. You're smart enough for it, and I did tell that Yanagida guy that they should send you too. Oh, well, just turned out to be a matter of time, right?"

"I'm-I'm not staying," Greta said, taking a seat next to her. "I'm a guest."

Her sister's smile faded slightly. "Really? Whose guest?"

"Dr. Carol Dawson. She's a scientist that I met in the settlement. She's been teaching me all kinds of cool things about space travel and astronomy and engineering—"

"Huh?" Teesa cocked her head. "Space travel?"

"It's where you take a rocket, which is a—"

"I know what space travel is. What organization would be dumb enough to want to set up space travel in Falmart?"

Greta wasn't sure what to react to first. She had spent the past two weeks absorbing every word that escaped Carol's mouth, and it sounded like her sister had already beaten her to the punch with that knowledge. Worse still… "Dumb? Carol works for NASA. They're the best of the best!"

Teesa gave her an odd glance, then burst out laughing. "Best of the best, huh?"

"It's true!"

"Greta, you always were one to go for the ideal version of things. I looked them up when I saw the news report about America sending soldiers to the Special Region with the rockets. The whole thing is one big joke. NASA hasn't done anything important in half a century."

She reached over to the table and hefted what Greta eventually realized was a laptop. Unlike the ones that Carol or the USAF airmen used, this one was remarkably thin. Teesa flipped it open, displaying the keyboard and screen to her sister. "While NASA puttered around, the rest of the world moved on. Why care about going up in the air when there's a world of interesting things you can do on _here_? With computers, the Americans have created whole _worlds_ to explore. There's stories to watch, games to play, and people to talk to from all over the planet. And the technology to make it work just gets better and better, faster and faster. Look."

She picked at the keys on the keyboard, and the screen changed to display a page in Japanese. "See this?" Teesa said. "It's a giant library called Wikipedia. It contains everything there is to know about Earth, and would probably fill up the entire Alnus Settlement if you were to try and print it out. The important part is that it's always getting better, always growing. Then, there's NASA… look at the thing in the article.

Greta tried, but it was very slow going as most of her experience with Japanese kanji and katakana was limited to non-technical words. Ultimately, Teesa huffed and said, "It's a NASA rocket called SLS. They've been working on parts of it for over ten years now. It goes nowhere, does nothing useful, and the American government keeps dumping money into it to keep the rocket-makers happy. Meanwhile, other places like India and Europe are sending probes to Mars on smaller rockets and at a fraction of the cost.

"Greta, NASA's a joke. They have been since their moon program finished, and whatever reason they were sent to Falmart is a joke too. I've asked a few American soldiers around here, and all of them think that the President sent the US Air Force and aging rockets in, hoping that they would get attacked so that the United States has an excuse to invade Falmart as well. I don't know who this Carol person is, but she's been feeding you a romantic fantasy, filled with 'Maybe' and 'Someday' and sold on the backs of rockets that are older than both of us combined. That's what NASA is now, and until someone like China beats them back to the moon, that's all it will ever be."

The conversation wasn't going anything like Greta had hoped that it would. She had hoped that her sister would be happy to see her, would be interested in what she had to say. Instead, it had all been swept aside as 'a joke.' It made no sense. What was there to joke about? Perhaps NASA meant something different to the people of Earth, but to the people of Falmart, it had introduced a new way of thinking, forced the stiff academics of Rondel to rethink old ideas, and had resulted in the delivery of science and mathematics to the Special Region that ought to advance technology by decades, if not centuries. Two weeks ago, Greta had never heard of a rocket. Now, she not only knew what it was, she knew the basics of how to build one. Teaching and new knowledge had power. "Can I ask you a question?" Greta said. "When was the last time you thought of La?"

"La?"

"Yes, the Goddess La."

"I don't see how she relates."

"These things you learned about NASA, did you actually experience them? Did you _learn_ them, or are you just repeating someone else's line like an Elange follower?"

"Does it matter? It's what the people of this world say."

"And if they're wrong? The people of Falmart were wrong about Mochrie and Heliocentricity for centuries."

"It's published articles, everyone I've read on the internet seems to agree, and NASA itself has yet to prove anything otherwise."

"Then I have one more question," Greta said, standing. "If you knew NASA to be like this, or simply wanted to know more, why didn't you write me? For that matter, why didn't you write to me anyway?"

"Why didn't you write to me?" Teesa said.

"I tried! The Japanese didn't know where to send the letter. Did you at least try?"

She slid back onto the arm of the couch. "I got distracted. There's a lot to see and do on this side of the Gate, and the internet is a big part of it. For example, they have this place called Reddit—"

"I don't understand. What happened to _us?_ "

Teesa looked her dead in the eye. "We changed. I moved ahead, you stayed behind in a fantasy land. You're still in a fantasy land. My suggestion? Dump this Carol woman and her NASA show, and join the rest of us here."

But Greta didn't want to hear any of it. She headed back for the door, thinking all the while, _screw her and her internet. I'll learn more about NASA and space than she'll ever know. I'll go further than she ever will sitting in front of a computer, and I'll do it without her, just as I have for the past few weeks._

"You're making a mistake," Teesa shouted after her.

Greta turned on her heel and shouted one of the few complete phrases she knew in English. She wasn't quite exactly sure what it meant, but the airmen at Alnus said it often enough during arguments, and now seemed like an appropriate time to use it.

"FUCK YOU!"

She left, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

 **Author's note**

It's appropriate that this chapter is being published on April Fools day. The truth of the matter is that while I know a lot off-hand about spaceflight history, I know very little about particle physics and non-Euclidian geometry. As such, please don't take anything from the lecture section of this chapter at face value and do your own research before bringing any of it up in a conversation with peers, professors, and coworkers.

The Chandra X-ray Observatory, Hubble Space Telescope, and Eagle Nebula are all real, however. Molecular cloud nebulae are real too, and are more common in the densest part of a galaxy's disk. When you see a long-exposure image of the Milky Way in the sky, you're mostly seeing molecular cloud nebulae.


	14. Chapter 14: Cruise to Apogee

**Chapter 14: Cruise to Apogee**

 **The National Diet Building, Tokyo, Japan**

The defense council meeting was not open to the public.

Hazama sat before a panel of half a dozen ministers, and behind him he could feel the eyes of another dozen JSDF officers. As the first commander of a Japanese force to conduct an offensive ground campaign since the 1940s, he supposed that these people might think him used to stressful situations… but on the summit of Alnus Hill he had the JSDF backing him up, whether it was against Zorzal's soldiers, fundamentalist rioters, or armored dragons. Here, it was him, and him alone.

The chair of the council was Defense Minister Kano, and he looked as weary as Hazama felt… and he probably didn't want to be here any more than Hazama did. "Lieutenant General Hazama," he said. "This meeting was requested by the Diet Minority coalition in response to the events at the Alnus base East Gate a few days ago, specifically..."

He stopped and looked to his right. At the end of the table, Representative Kouhara Mizuki was giving him a cold smile, and Hazama felt a feeling of ice building up in his chest. Kouhara had been the councilwoman responsible for interviewing Itami, Rory, Tuka, and Lelei during their visit to the Diet several weeks back. At the time, Rory had put the woman firmly in her place. There was no Apostle of Emroy to assist him now, and it was clear that the woman was out for blood.

"...specifically with regards to how six JGSDF soldiers were critically injured—"

"—and may die—" Kouhara added.

"—against a band of rioters from the Alnus Settlement. Kouhara, since you requested this meeting, you may have the floor."

The councilwoman folded her hands and said, "If you don't mind, General, I would like to review the events of that night. It is my understanding that you were returning from the airfield at the time, having seen the Rondel VIPs back to Italica. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"It was then that you were informed of the mob approaching from the settlement?"

"Correct. I was approached by one of my aides after the last helicopter departed."

"It is also my understanding that your first notification was not the first time that the soldiers called requesting instructions. Is that correct?"

"Yes. We have a chain of command, and the officer on duty heard of the connection to Falmart Goddess Hardy and noted that children were present in the mob, which lead him to believe that it was a religious affair. Even so, some time passed before I was informed of the situation."

"And you did not see this as a sign of an imminent threat?"

Hazama stood his ground, and stated, "As signatories to the Geneva Convention, the JSDF does its best to avoid civilian casualties wherever possible. The inclusion of children in the mob made it difficult to establish the adults of the opposing force as hostile actors."

"So you are saying that you would put the lives of civilians from an enemy nation to take priority over the lives of Japanese citizens?"

It was a twisting of facts, and Hazama had expected something like this, so he stated, "The situation with Falmart's empire is Fragile right now, and if the concession deal goes through with Pina, Emperor Mort co Solus, and the cooperative portion of the Imperial Senate, then the people in the settlement are technically Japanese civilians as well."

"Eventually, Hazama, but certainly not yet," Kouhara placed a hand on the table. "They are not Japanese citizens until the land has been formally annexed, a prefecture has been organized, and they have a representative voting on sessions in this building. Until then, they are potential enemies of the state. With this in mind, why didn't you give the order to fire? Why leave it up to the men on the ground?"

"Even if they aren't Japanese civilians, they are still civilians. If they had opened fire, I imagine that we would be having this same session, except that you would be asking me why I ordered my men to open fire on civilians, instead of asking why they did not."

"I'm happy you pointed that out. I would like to add to my earlier question. Why didn't you give the order to fire? Not only did your stalling lead to a situation where the lives of six Japanese men hang in the balance, it resulted in the deaths of sixteen civilian children… children who could have lived if the mob was driven back sooner."

"I took every available precaution—"

"Clearly that is part of the problem, General. If we cannot expect decisive action against an unruly mob, how can we expect decisive action against the remnants of the government that _slaughtered_ innocent people in Ginza?"

At this point Kano spoke up. "If I may, Councilwoman, the procedures being followed by General Hazama are in line with practices followed by most other first-world nations. While I recognize that your party is eager to implement its own policies in the Special Region, Hazama is following as moral a code as combat permits."

Kouhara frowned at him, "We can always do better, Minister."

 _How the hell do Americans deal with this?_ Hazama wondered. If it was a serious case of questioning his order, then he would be sitting before a military court, not a civilian one. The reason why he had been summoned here—the _only_ reason he had been summed here—was to allow Kouhara and her party their political grandstanding. Mullan had offered some sympathetic thoughts the day before but, in the end, the US Air Force officer had spent most of his days commanding a desk far away from the closest battlefield. He wasn't the one who had nearly lost men, so what did he know?

"General Hazama-" Kano started, but Kouhara cut him off.

"Has lead a slow, passive campaign against violent and repugnant forces," the Councilwoman spat. "General Hazama has let a dangerous fire dragon run rampant for weeks, murdering hundreds, and did not act until Itami Youji went AWOL in an attempt to solve the problem. General Hazama failed in his attempt to raid the Imperial Capitol by rescuing only the senators, rather than the figureheads needed to give his replacement governing body legitimacy—again relying on Itami Youji and the members of Recon-3 to do the hard work for him. General Hazama continues to eat through billions of taxpayer Yen while a monster who boasted about beating and raping a Japanese woman not only runs free, but continues to lead raids against Japanese forces operating in the region. Or perhaps, Minister Kano, he is taking _every available precaution_ as he waits for the Hero of Ginza to clean up his mess for him."

Hazama seethed with frustration as she listed each point, but he was not in a position to say anything. This was Japan, and you said nothing to someone above you, even if you disagreed with them. That was how polite society worked, after all.

"There are well and grounded diplomatic reasons why Hazama has acted the way he has to this point," Kano stated. "If anything, it is Itami who has been needlessly reckless. While this council admits that the Lieutenant's actions have been effective, they have more-often-than-not deviated from what the military and world at large finds appropriate."

"And if the Special Region produces a more significant threat than Zorzal?" Kouhara said. "If our forces are demolished because action is not taken, then 'well and grounded reasons' will not protect the citizens of Tokyo from a second attack. Only decisive action-action which the current administration has failed to take-will keep our people safe."

She turned to face Hazama, and the feeling was not unlike staring down a Type 74 tank. "So tell us, General, when can we expect to see decisive action in the face of external threats?"

"My apologies that you feel that way, Councilwoman," Hazama said, "I shall seek to improve Japan's image in the Special Region to the best of my abilities."

"Indeed," Kouhara said, sitting down. "And I should hope so. I cannot imagine the sort of dishonor it would bring on you and the JSDF if you should fail again."

Kano sighed, "Thank you for your time, General Hazama. That will be all for today."

Hazama wished that the Defense Minister would have said more, but as he stood to leave, he felt that pressure of many eyes still on him. This meeting was a bad sign-the Minority representatives were looking to politicize the deployment, while the majority administration would likely be more than willing to pressure the JSDF into forcing him out if things went poorly… better to sacrifice a single man than to lose the populace. And while his own commanding officer, General Nomura, had been supportive on the phone at Alnus, he hadn't said as much as a word here.

The message was clear; demonstrate irrefutable progress in the next Special Region military action or be forced out.

He would need to talk to Princess Pina. The most dangerous element of the conflict for Hazama was no longer Zorzal's sword before him, but Kouhara's pen behind him.

* * *

 **The Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, Washington D.C., United States**

The weather was wretched that day, and to Carol the National Mall felt bent and wrong. Dark clouds cast a grim pallor over the stone-faced government buildings and monuments, and what was supposed to have been a park full of cherry blossoms felt half-hearted and stripped from the remnants of a late-winter storm that had killed many of the buds before they could bloom. It was a weekday, and few people were out touring in this weather. Those that did pulled rain jackets about their necks or adjusted the positions of folded umbrellas beneath their arms as they waited for spring struggled to sweep away three months of ice and cold.

When Greta finally appeared, wide hat jammed over her head and demihuman ears, she didn't seem particularly healthy either. Sure, the girl smiled as she greeted Carol, but the smile only reached the lower half of her face. Her eyes weren't in it, and Carol couldn't help but wonder what had gone on between Greta and Teesa.

"Well," Carol said, gesturing to the building behind her. "Here we are. The Air and Space Museum. One hundred years of American aviation in a neat little box."

Greta nodded, the smile dropping away as she took the lead, and Carol struggled to keep up. She only caught up to her at security, where Greta's security handler was in the process of negotiating passage with the museum's Office of Protection Services agents. By the time Carol could talk, Greta was peering through the open hatch of the Gemini IV crew module. "Greta," Carol said, resting a hand on the girl's shoulder, "are you alright? You seem tense."

"I'm _fine_." She pressed closer to study the controls and asked, "What's the story about this one?"

Carol wasn't about to argue, and wasn't sure that this was the right time, so she decided to play along, for the moment. "This is Gemini IV. It carried pilot Jim McDivitt and Ed White, who became the first American to venture outside of a capsule in a spacesuit."

"First American…" Greta said. "Not first person?"

"No. Alexi Leonov from the Soviet Union did it ten weeks before him."

"I see." Greta seemed to shrink inward a bit at the news. "Then surely if he is being memorialized here, then Ed White did other amazing things in the years that followed."

Carol shook her head. "He never got the chance. He died a year and a half later in the Apollo 1 fire."

"Let's look at another one," Greta said, crossing the hall to another capsule. "What's this one?"

"Friendship 7. The capsule that made John Glenn the first American in orbit."

"So the Soviet Union beat you that time too."

"Yes, with Yuri Ga—"

But Greta had already moved on, generally ignoring the planes hanging from the ceiling and straying into the next gallery over. An Apollo Lunar Module stood proudly in the middle of the hall, surrounded by other Apollo-era equipment. She brightened more at this one. "So that's a Lunar Module," she said with a small smile, "Like the one David Scott was standing in front of."

Back when Carol was explaining the gravity experiment to Flat and Greta, she had shown them the famous Apollo "Galileo was Correct" video starring David Scott with his feather and hammer. "That's correct," she said. "This particular one was used as a ground test article between the unmanned flight test on Apollo 5, and the crewed test on Apollo 9."

"Do they let you see inside of it?"

"Not this one, unfortunately. If we had a few days, I'd take you down to the Kennedy Space Center and show you the control panel set that we have there. It's really mesmerizing; lots of buttons and switches."

"Kamikoda let me look at the inside of the F4 Phantom, and that one had a lot of buttons and switches too."

"It's interesting that you bring that up. If I remember correctly, the F4 was made only a few years before Grumman started working on the Lunar Lander, so the underlying technology is similar… except that later we added more powerful computers to the F4 because we're still using it to this day. Back during the Constellation Program, I saw plans for the Altair lunar lander, and it would have had modern computers and flight controls to match the aircraft that we use today."

"Oh? Does this museum have an Altair lander too?"

If there was one piece that pained Carol when talking about modern NASA, it was the fact that, if not presented correctly, it came across as a litany of bad news. "Sadly, no," she said. "The program was cancelled before any were built."

Greta had nothing else to say to that and, turning her back on the LM, she wandered over to the Cold War gallery. While most of the moon missions had their own separate section of the museum, this area covered a similar time scale with objects like test capsules, space suits, and even a full-scale test model of the Apollo-Soyuz docked stack. What drew Greta's attention, however, was the collection of full-sized rockets standing proudly in the center of the room.

Before Carol could say anything, Greta rushed over to a plaque beneath one of the rockets and said, "Hey, I recognize this word! But I think they've mislabeled it. Isn't Midgetman smaller?"

Carol looked down at the information placard for the large green rocket.

MINUTEMAN III

"It's a different rocket," Carol said, hoping that Greta would move on.

But she did not. "The HML that launches this must be huge!"

Before Carol could reply, someone next to Greta exclaimed, "Oh, hey! Nihongo wakadimas?"

Carol looked over Greta to see some college-age kid with an obnoxious Anime print splayed over the front of his shirt. She had been banking on drawing Greta away from the awkward locations in the exhibit by exploiting the fact that the cat-girl still lacked a fluent understanding of English, and hadn't counted on running into anyone else who spoke Japanese.

"Oh, of course!" Greta replied. "Dr. Dawson said that most people here didn't speak Japanese."

The guy shrugged. "Most people don't. I grew up for a few years in Japan before moving back here. Is that woman over there your English translator?"

"Yes! She's also an expert in the field. Still, I'm kind of curious about how much regular Americans know about space and NASA… this rocket for example, do you know how often America does space launches with it?"

He looked down at the nameplate, then up at the rocket to make sure that he was understanding her question correctly before giving her an odd look. "Never, it's not that kind of rocket."

Carol looked to her guard and Greta's willing for one of them to intervene, but both stood there, waiting, listening.

"Not a space rocket?"

"No—I mean, it goes into space, but it's not designed for studying space, if that's what you mean. You've never heard of ICBMs before?"

 _Do something!_ She willed the guards. She wanted to intervene herself, but was terrified about the consequences of doing so. What if she accidentally let something slip? Didn't Mullan say that she'd go to Federal Prison?

"No?" Greta said.

"It's designed to throw a nuclear weapon halfway around the planet and blow someone up."

"Oh, like a hand grenade?" Greta had seen the demonstration for the Rondel academics at Alnus, and it was the only context she had seen of something 'blowing up.'

The guy gave her a confused look. "You speak Japanese, and you really don't know what a nuke is?"

" _Greta, I don't think—_ " Carol began, but the girl said, "I'm from a rural place, so no, what is it?"

"Imagine that you could take the fire from the center of the sun and open it up here on Earth," the guy said. "That's what a nuke is, it sets off a huge explosion. Just one can destroy an entire city, and every man woman and child living there."

Carol suddenly felt woozy, like she had on seeing the Midgetman's payload for the first time. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that she couldn't.

Greta's eyes widened in shock. "Who in their right mind would create something like that?"

"Well… we did. America, I mean. We used two of them to end World War II."

"And the country America used them on doesn't hate them for it?"

"Apparently not, considering that they're borrowing NASA and the USAF to launch rockets for them on the far side of the Gate."

If Carol had the ability to look up, she would have seen the horror seeping into Greta's face. "But…" Greta said, "That's…"

"Japan, of course."

Carol couldn't take it anymore. She rushed out of the hall, her security handler in close pursuit, pushed out of the building exit, and collapsed against the wall of the building, grasping.

It was raining now, and the National Mall had emptied out as people ran into buildings or beneath overhangs. Carol didn't care. She whirled around to face her handler and cried, "How can you just stand there? You should have said _something_."

"That America has nuclear weapons, and that such weapons exist is publicly available knowledge," the handler stated, as impassive as ever. "My orders are to defend knowledge of the _location_ of such weapons."

Before Carol could say anything else, she noticed Greta making her way out the museum doors as well. The girl still looked stunned beyond understanding, and Carol found herself buried under a pile of intrusive thoughts.

 _You did this to her. You filled her head with pretty little lies about what was going on in the Special Region, and now she knows the truth about the history of rocketry. Not peace or hope or scientific interest, just men looking for a better way to deliver a bomb. Truly, nothing has changed._

At first she couldn't meet the girl's eyes. Eventually, Greta asked, her voice barely above a whisper, "The man in the exhibit… was he telling the truth?"

Carol nodded. _You should tell her the rest too, she_ chided herself, _how the rockets that launched Mercury and Gemini were originally built to level St. Petersburg and Moscow. How the hands that designed Americas first moon rocket were dipped in the blood of over a thousand London civilians. How the Space Shuttle was designed to meet Air Force specifications for a program to make Space into the next warzone through high-energy lasers and orbital-reentry tungsten poles. How even today the X-37B—_

But Greta didn't ask, and when Carol finally looked up, she saw that the girl had her arms wrapped about herself, and was fighting back tears.

"Teesa and I had a fight," she said. "I wasn't even in there for a minute, and we were fighting. I—I don't understand. I wanted to impress her, to show her that I was still learning. She didn't care. She said that it was all stupid, and that it didn't have any meaning.

"I yelled at her, and I walked out, and as I went through the museum today, I felt like I was looking for something, _anything_ to prove her wrong, to prove that the time that we spent on rockets and airplanes and orbits was worthwhile.

"I've never asked you this, Carol, but I need to know. If so much is going wrong for you and NASA, why do it? Why bother?"

Dawson had been considering the same question. _Why did I even bother in the first place?_

So, she thought back. Before the Nuke and the lecture and the rocket launches, before Greta and Takagi and the Gate, all the way back to the shadow of Launch Complex 41.

And there she found the Senator's kid looking up at the Atlas V rocket, eyes big and shining and full of "What if…"

She remembered her line to Kosinski at the end of the Phizon lecture. _Their last names wouldn't happen to begin with B, M, and B respectively, would they?_

"It's… a story, Greta, and it's still being written, but I think it begins on February 1st, 2003. Six Americans and an Israeli, while returning from space aboard the shuttle _Columbia_ , died when their spacecraft spun itself to pieces after their heat protection failed. I remember it clearly; no one was sure what would happen to NASA or the space program, and there were talks about cancelling the Space Shuttle program entirely, which they eventually did. Lots of people were ridiculing the idea of sending people into space at all, saying things like what your sister must've said. Why bother? Why try?

"It could have ended there, I guess. People could have waited as the space shuttle ended its run, and the NASA facilities shuttered their doors as politicians fell into an endless squabble on what to replace it with, but that's not what happened. An aerospace engineer named Burt Rutan decided that then and there would be an excellent time to show off a project he'd been working on, and a year and a half after the _Columbia_ disaster, Rutan's SpaceShipOne made history by being the first manned private vehicle to make it into space, even if only for a little while. Greta, while you were looking down at the insides of the Mercury and Gemini capsules, you missed SpaceShipOne hanging right over your head.

"Eventually Rutan decided to retire his new spaceplane, but it didn't stop there. An entrepreneur named Richard Branson decided, 'hell, why not', and started an entire company, Virgin Galactic, devoted to making a large-scale version of SpaceShipOne.

"And even as Virgin Galactic began to fade from the public eye, another man named Elon Musk took this as a signal and started a company that began putting things into orbit… and kept _going_. The company, SpaceX, continues to lead the charge with rocket boosters that land themselves, capsules for sending people and parts to orbital space stations, and now they say that they'll send people around the Moon soon, and maybe even send something to Mars.

"And as Musk's SpaceX and Shuttle-builder Boeing get ready to send Americans back into orbit on NASA missions to the space station, yet another company called Blue Origin plans to beat both to the punch with another suborbital rocket. Its founder, Jeff Bezos, has already flown the entire stack unmanned, and in a few months the trip will open to anyone who can afford it."

Carol brushed a wet strand of hair from her face and sighed. "If you had told me in February 2003 that we were standing on the edge of a renaissance in spaceflight, I wouldn't have believed you, yet here we are. It's because people like Branson, Musk, and Bezos, people who believed in a future for spaceflight, were willing to stare down the people who asked 'why bother' and shout back 'because I think it's worth it, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make it happen anyway!'

"There's a famous speech by President John F. Kennedy where he tells an audience that America will "Choose to go to the Moon." Everyone remembers the first line of its most famous paragraph, but I like the rest of it too. He says that we should go because it 'will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win.' To me, at the end of the day, that's what space is about, regardless of if you're getting there through the Air Force, or NASA, or a private company. It's about people looking at their universe, even in the face of failure, and then trying harder and doing better. Not because there's any obligation to do so, but simply because we, as people, _know_ that we can do better if we try for it, and we owe it to _ourselves and no one else_ to prove ourselves right."

Carol placed her hands on Greta's shoulders. "Greta," she said. "I understand what it's like to question your self-worth, to wonder why you're doing what you're doing. It's frustrating, it _hurts_. You have every right to be upset, both at yourself and the people who you're up against, but if you hold yourself against someone else's standards, you'll never be happy. I don't know what you think about yourself, but I know what I've seen; you're driven, you're a quick learner, and you have a love for the topics you invest yourself into. You endured awful conditions at the bookstore so you could keep learning, and you braved men with guns over things because you thought that I was in danger. You're an amazing person, Greta, and the only person you need to convince of that fact is yourself."

At that point Greta began to sob, so Carol pulled her closer and let the girl burry her face in her shoulder. In all honestly, Carol thought, the speech had been just as much of a reminder to herself as it had been to Greta, and it felt good to speak her mind. After a minute or so, Greta said something, but her voice was muffled by the fabric of Carol's jacket. "What was that?"

"I wanted to apologize to you, Carol. Ever since we got on the plane, I knew you were struggling with something. I was so wrapped up in myself that I completely missed it. If you want to talk about it, I'd be willing to listen."

"To be honest, you've already done that. It made me rethink something that's been messing with me for a while, and I think I can live with it."

Greta looked away, thoughtful, and recited, " _Open my mind to those who wish to teach, / and show me ways to grow from what I learn._ It's from the daily prayer to La. I'd always thought about it as learning from other people, but I guess that we can each apply it to ourselves too."

"It's cleverly written. Since La is a goddess of wisdom, then it would make sense for it to have a double-interpretation like that." She patted Greta on the back and said, "I feel like I should have asked this ages ago, but would you be willing to tell me more about the Gods and Goddesses of Falmart… what they're like and what they do? There's a decent restaurant a few blocks north of here… over dinner, maybe?"

"Gladly."

As they started towards Jefferson Drive, Carol looked back to see one of their handlers radioing for a car and called back to him, "Oh, and call Colonel Mullan. Tell him that I'm willing to go back to the Special Region. JAXA's about to launch an orbital-class rocket over there and I wouldn't want to miss out on any of it!"


	15. Chapter 15: Second Stage Ignition

**Chapter 15: Second Stage Ignition**

 **ONE WEEK LATER, One Hour After Sunset**

 **Alnus Settlement, Alnus, Special Region**

Carol glanced down at her watch for the seventeenth time. Satellite sightings required a special degree of precision to get right when pointing them out to crowds, and she was used to hearing at least a few complaints from kids if the International Space Station wasn't going to pass overhead at the desired time.

So, deciding that they couldn't wait any longer, she gave Greta a nod, and they began their presentation.

They were in the Settlement Amphitheater again, and the atmosphere was very different from the events prior to the Heliocentricity lecture. Carol had brought projector equipment with lots of detailed information and footage, was continuing to abscond with Shirai's telescopes, and had denied requests to have the presentation done anywhere else or for anyone else. "Nariv was successful in raising a mob because he argued that the lower classes felt that they were being ignored," Carol had explained to Mullan. "If any more aristocrats want to see this presentation, then they can come to me. If they don't like the company, they can pay someone to rent one of the surrounding roofs."

Another component of appealing to the masses was the main presenter. This time, Carol took her seat behind the laptop controlling the presentation, and waited. On the stage itself, Greta adjusted her microphone clip and began a practiced lecture, entirely in the Imperial language. "Hello everyone," she said, "can you hear me?"

Sounds of agreement, and Greta smiled out at them. "Great! Thanks again for joining us for the rocket launch this morning. The JAXA team says that the spacecraft is in good health, and that they are starting to get back lots of neat information from it. But first… let's talk about how the satellite moves, where it's going, and how it gets there."

She nodded back to Carol, who moved to the next slide in the presentation. This one was an animated picture, showing the satellite circling a blue circle standing in for the planet below. "We already discussed yesterday the idea of what an orbit was and how gravity works, in accordance with the theories confirmed by the Rondel Council. The orbits we describe for the planets, however, is called an equatorial orbit, because the object moves east-to-west through the sky as it orbits. The _Sakura_ probe, on the other hand, uses a different kind of orbit."

Now some pictures and lines appeared on the blue circle. "Sakura is in what is called a Polar orbit, because it goes north-to-south and passes over the north and south poles every time it goes around the planet.

"But remember, the planet is turning on its center! It turns West to East, which is why the Sun rises in the East and sets in the West. Since Sakura isn't sitting on the planet, it doesn't turn with it! That means that each time the satellite finishes an orbit and returns to the equator, it is looking down on a different part of the planet! This is very important because, when we're done, Sakura will have had a chance to see every part of our planet and, for the first time, we will be able to see a complete map of the whole world; mountains, oceans and all!"

Carol looked at her watch one more time and waved to get her attention. "Okay," Greta said. "We're going to turn off all the lights now so you can see the stars. I want you to watch really carefully to the North."

The electric lights around the amphitheater were shut off, and the projector was similarly turned off. Though there was still some light filtering in from torches throughout the settlement, the sky was clear and full of stars. Greta indicated a point near one of the mountains on the horizon and, together, they waited.

Finally, a delighted cry and someone in the audience pointed. Carol squinted at the horizon and, sure enough, there it was. A tiny white dot had departed from the mountaintops and was slowly scooting up into the sky. Slowly, more and more people in the audience noticed and continued to point and whisper to each other. There it truly was, the thing they had seen go up on the Epsilon rocket that morning.

To be fair, Carol knew that Greta's explanation was a very simplified version of what was going on. The Japanese had placed their satellite into an _elliptical_ polar orbit, so that one side came closer to the planet while the other was further out, allowing the sensors on board to collect both detailed data at perigee and big-picture observations at apogee. From either side of the orbit, as long as it was above the horizon, it could beam cached data to a JAXA receiver antenna inside the Alnus base. The data from the antenna would immediately get copied to a local server and forwarded through a fiber optic bundle to astronomers and universities on the far side of the Gate.

Right now they were looking at the satellite on the apogee-facing part of the orbit, and the satellite seemed to slow the higher it got in the evening sky. Slowly, lights were turned back on and Greta finished her presentation by stating, "Japanese and American scientists are currently compiling data from the satellite, and claim that they already have enough radar data to produce a line-map of the continents by our next presentation tomorrow night. I hope you will join us then, because I'm sure that it will be very exciting since no one, not us, the Japanese, or Americans know what we'll find!"

After a round of applause, Greta met up with Carol and, switching back to Japanese, asked, "Did it look okay? I think that I got all of the points correct, and I can only pray that the concepts were clear during the translation—"

"Greta," Carol said, smiling at her, "You did fine! It made me want to improve my Imperial to keep up!"

She watched for a while as Greta worked with Schumer and Foster to put the presentation equipment away, they strayed over to the edge of the amphitheater to continue following the satellite.

The launch that morning had gone without a hitch, and Carol had enjoyed watching the reactions to the much bigger and better-designed rocket. True, the Japanese Epsilon, like Midgetman, used a solid rocket motor on its main stage, but, since it was an orbital rocket instead of a suborbital one, the vehicle overall was much larger than Midgetman, and had required the construction of a simple but dedicated concrete pad out near the airfield.

It was also the first time that Mullan had been able to join her for a launch. Normally, the man would be with whichever HML was conducting the launch, but since HML-2 and its atom bomb were still in their hangar, he had no reason to skip this launch. When Carol asked for his opinion, he smiled, waved her off and said, "Wish we could show them a Delta IV Heavy. That would _really_ knock their socks off."

The satellite continued to rise and, now that Carol was following, she noticed something strange. The portion of sky that the spacecraft was edging closer to appeared shockingly empty, with all the stars in the region bunching towards a center a few degrees to the West.

"Strange, isn't it," said a voice behind her, and Carol looked over her shoulder to see that Takagi was also looking up at the night sky.

"Very," Carol said. "Shirai's been adamant about refining Flat's thesis on the spatial distortions, and he hasn't come to any conclusions yet."

Takagi nodded, froze, then asked, "Dr. Dawson, did anyone ever tell you which instruments were on _Sakura_?"

She thought back over the short briefing. "If I recall correctly, a radar topography scanner, an optical camera and a spectroscopic survey scanner."

Takagi nodded, "That is correct, but there is one instrument that was added late, and so was not in the presentation. I only learned about it by talking to the JAXA controller team this morning."

"Really?" Carol said. "What is it?"

"A particle collector. The satellite will fly through the spatial distortion and try to determine if there is a particle or energy cause."

"That's pretty risky."

"Says the woman whose organization is about to maneuver an aging probe _through_ the gap between Saturn an its rings. Yanagida wanted me to ask if you intended to study it with your third Air Force rocket."

Of course not. If all went well, Carol felt, that rocket and the HML it sat on would stay in its hangar and rust there until the end of time. She couldn't say that, however, so instead she said, "Maybe, if they ever get the fueling problem fixed. I have heard from Administrator Kosinski that NASA is already in talks for a completely different project, so we may skip the third Midgetman launch entirely."

Takagi grinned. "Yanagida also said that your answer would sound like that."

"He's a nosy guy, isn't he?"

"He's an intelligence officer. It is in his job description, and—oh!"

Carol's head snapped up in the direction of Takagi's gaze towards the satellite. It appeared to be oscillating wildly, now appearing almost like a tiny line segment than a dot.

There was a bright flash, a tiny fireball that quickly extinguished itself, then nothing.

The scientist noticed that her mouth was hanging open in shock. "Oh crap!" she said, "I think that was one of the hydrazine tanks!"

Carol looked down at the translator again and said, "Do you have a radio? Someone ought to tell—"

She didn't have time to say more. From the West came the wailing of the base alarm, and Greta and the two American soldiers were back at her side, Schumer listening intensely to his radio set."

"What is it?" Greta asked, "An attack?"

The Technical Sergeant frowned and replied, "Not quite."

"Then what is it?"

"An unexpected guest."

* * *

 **One hundred meters outside the South Gate, Alnus FOB**

As far as Sergeant First Class Mihara was concerned, the sight before his vehicle shouldn't be possible.

The Alnus Forward Operating Base was defended as a proper base ought to be; roving patrols and pickets, checkpoints on every road and trail, thermal scanners and night vision equipment for every guard and vehicle on duty… enough to assure that an enemy force couldn't sneak up on them, and enough options to prevent a repeat of Nariv's mob and riot. Even rotating radar arrays and fire control systems had been installed to deal with the Wyverns that the Emire seemed to enjoy using from time to time.

Therefore, it was unsettling for him to open the door, and shine his vehicle's spotlight on the young woman standing less than a football field's distance away from the base's main entry point. No one should have been able to sneak through so many layers of security, at least not without training, equipment, and intel on the security systems being used.

And yet, there she was.

The woman appeared in her mid-twenties, scantily clad in a showy white dress, but it was not the revealing clothing that caught Mihara's attention first. Rather it was her blue skin, the large scythe she carried, and the dragon wings sprouting from her back that gave him pause.

Her name was Giselle, an Apostle of Hardy, and she was dangerous.

Months ago, she had woken and taken control of a pair of flame dragons. It had taken an organized assault by the 4th Combat Group to take them out. She was also an Apostle which meant, like Rory, she would shrug off anything that came out of the business end of his Howa Type 64 rifle. Even with the two Komatsu LAVs taking up position on either side, and the thundering roar of a Cobra gunship moving into position in the airspace behind him, Mihara still didn't feel safe.

He had asked his driver to give them several meters of space, so he wound up shouting at Hardy's chosen girl, "This territory is occupied by the JSDF, and we cannot permit you to come any closer without stating your business."

"I'm the Apostle of Hardy, I go where I like."

"You could be the Prime Minister of Japan, and my request would be the same."

Hardy shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter. Hardy wants to know why her instructions to Itami Youji were not acted upon."

Mihara frowned down at her. "Which instructions?"

"The ones about closing the Gate."

The Sergeant looked down at his driver, who shrugged. "I will contact my commanding officer," Mihara said, "I need you to wait."

Giselle snorted. "Even with your war machines, you are still a typical army."

After he sent his instructions over the radio, he waited for the Lieutenant on the other end to respond, and was surprised to hear the lower voice of General Hazama. "Hand her a spare radio, but stay on the line."

Mihara reached into the vehicle, pulled out a spare radio set and, jumped to the ground. He tried to seem calm as he approached the Apostle, but he felt like he was standing between two active volcanoes-the might of the entire 5th Combat Group behind him, and this… girl. He passed the radio to her and said, "Hold down the switch on the side to talk, and release it to listen."

She waited until Mihara had returned to his vehicle and asked, "Who am I speaking with?"

The Sergeant turned on his own radio set to listen to the conversation. "I am Lieutenant General Hazama of the Japanese Ground Self Defense Forces," came the response. "And you are Giselle… I received reports on you from Lieutenant Itami and some… brief interactions with my 4th Combat Group. What's this about closing the Gate?"

"I want to know why you haven't done so yet."

"I diligently went through the entire brief by Lieutenant Yanagida, and while we understand the interest in keeping Falmart's culture intact, my nation has decided that it is in the best interests of both worlds to keep the Gate open."

Giselle gave the radio a confused look, then said, "Then you have misunderstood Hardy's orders. She did not tell Itami to _consider_ closing the Gate, she insisted that the Gate _must_ be closed. Or has Itami not reported on our trip to Knappnai?"

"The Lieutenant reported on Knappnai, and our stance remains the same. What Hardy decides to do with her powers is her decision, and it only firms our resolve in the choice not to close the Gate."

"I don't think you heard me," Giselle snarled. "The Gate _must_ be closed. You aren't being given a choice in the matter."

A pause, then, "Sergeant Mihara, if Giselle hasn't departed in thirty seconds, you have my permission to use all available means to help her on her way."

Mihara leveled his weapon, and said, "You heard the General. Get out of here before we kick your ass like we did three weeks ago."

Giselle smiled up at him, and taped a finger on her scythe. "You know," she said, "I've had time to think about that. Hardy has too. You should take that into consideration before threatening us."

"Twenty seconds. The pair of you can go do hell. As the Americans say, scram!"

But Giselle simply chuckled. and said, "But don't you know?

"' _Tis Hardy of those shadowed plains_

 _Of Kingdoms built on man's remains_

 _Ensnare the ones who ought to know_

 _Who dwells within the land—"_

The ground below them erupted, pitching Mihara's vehicle over backwards and throwing him clear. Emerging from beneath the truck, a giant centipede knifed into the air and landed hard on the overturned vehicle with a loud hiss.

Mihara reacted automatically, grabbing his rifle again and firing up at the monster. One of the LAV gunners opened up as well, his 12.7mm rounds punching into the chitin plating of the animal, but the M2 was silenced as this vehicle was thrown as well. This time it wasn't some bug, but a 30-ft golem that emerged from the dirt and slammed a giant rocky fist down on the roof of the armored vehicle. Several yards away, the other LAV was gunning its engine in full reverse, the gunner firing wildly as they retreated towards the base.

Sergeant Mihara scrambled to his feet, but didn't know where to point fist. The ground exploded again, this time with a giant creature made of lava that ignited the grass around it as it pushed its way to the surface, and again as what looked like a giant horsefly blasted through the dirt, and took to the air after the Cobra gunship, and again as a swarm of tiger-sized ants spilled out onto the field like water from an uncapped fire hydrant, and a horrific rumbling as a giant blue dragon, larger than either that the 4th Combat Group had tackled, shook its way out of the dirt and launched into air.

The Sergeant turned to rush back to his overturned vehicle, but barely made it five seconds before he was stopped by a blinding pain. For an instant, his vision cleared just enough to see the end of a giant blade protruding from his chest.

As the world began to fade, he heard Giselle at his ear, whispering, "This is your reward for killing my flame dragons."

The Apostle twisted the scythe around , slicing the JSDF soldier cleanly in half. In that moment, Sergeant Mihara became the first Earth soldier to die in the Special Region.

Before the night was over, he would not be the last.


	16. Chapter 16: 28,000 Kilometers per Hour

**Chapter 16: 28,000 Kilometers per Hour  
**

 _And so our scene must to the battle fly;  
Where-O for pity!-we shall much disgrace  
With four or five most vile and ragged foils,  
Right ill-disposed in brawl ridiculous,  
The name of Agincourt. Yet sit and see,  
Minding true things by what their mockeries be._

\- _Henry V_ , Act IV, Prologue

* * *

Col. Ishihara dived out of the way as the LAV went screeching back through the South Gate. Around him, soldiers rushed to the base walls from every direction as vehicles began thundering out of the motor pool.

Ishihara rushed over to the LAV and asked, "What happened out there? Where's the rest of your team?"

"Dead!" The driver shouted back, "There were too many, they were on the other vehicles before we could do anything."

Above him, soldiers on the wall were already firing, and he heard a loud _bang_ as one of the tanks hurled a shot at the approaching army the approaching army. He scrambled back into his Type 82 Comms vehicle and keyed his radio set. "Hold these positions," he called. "And if you notice that something is working against a specific monster, _say something!_ "

It wasn't a point that needed to be repeated, and the fire intensified, along with an increasing roar as the 5th Combat Group's seven remaining helicopters raced to form up with the orbiting Cobra.

The first enemy was on the South Gate in seconds; one of the centipedes from earlier which yanked a JSDF infantryman off the wall before the other soldiers reacted, rushing to the sides as they pumped the creature full of bullets at alarmingly close range. Even as the bug began to shudder and slide off the wall, a second one took its place, this time attacking from further along the wall and catching the bunched up soldiers before they could dodge its sharp legs or pincers.

As it rose to make a final jab down at its prey, a soldier from below launched a rifle grenade at the centipede, ripping its head from its body and showering Ishihara's vehicle with bug paste.

Before the soldiers could react to this, there was a roar from above, and they scurried in all directions to dodge a shower of ice spikes spewed by the giant Ice Dragon which had appeared overhead. The monster flipped and maneuvered so that it was facing directly at the window of Ishihara's Type 82, its armored scales shrugging off the light arms fire of the men on the ground. It bent its head, preparing for a second blast when an even louder roar and air pressure wave knocked the beast to the side.

The Colonel didn't need an explanation for what had just happened, and was more than satisfied to see the dragon rise into the sky, leaving the Colonel's ground team aside, and pursuing the escaping F-4 instead.

* * *

"We've got his attention." Kurihama pointed out.

Major Kamikoda usually rolled his eyes the blasé speech pattern of the Radar Intercept Officer in the seat behind him, but today it was almost calming. The blue Ice Dragon had similar dimensions to the Flame Dragon that he had dueled with months ago, and while the two baby dragons had been a sweet prize, he still somewhat resented Itami Youji for taking down the larger beast before he'd had a chance to engage it in direct combat.

He pulled up lightly on the stick to avoid Alnus's hilly terrain, then banked the F-4 Phantom around for another pass… but was shocked to see that the beast was keeping tight pursuit, and was somehow staying inside the jet's turn radius. "Don't you remember!" Kurihama shouted, "These things are unnaturally fast, and can pull tighter turns than us! The science guys think that magic is boosting it along."

And _this_ was why Kamikoda had told Greta about wanting one of those F-22s. What he wouldn't give for a thrust-vectoring engine then and there. "We'll get around him, hit him with a missile."

"Radar cross-section's too small!"

"Infrared missile then!"

"It's an _**ice**_ dragon!"

"Then we'll go in with the cannon!"

"The rounds won't get through it's hide!"

" _What the hell do you want from me_ —"

He pulled a tight turn and a roll as a wave of ice shards went rocketing past at impossible speeds. _Magic indeed._ The pilot thought, then shouted back to his RIO, "Just its hide is armored, right?"

"What are you planning?"

But Kamikoda didn't have time to explain. He yanked back on the stick, pushed the throttle to the firewall and felt the afterburners kick in. Between the two, the Phantom may as well have been one of Carol's rockets as it forced its way up into the sky. "Is he still following?" he asked.

Kumihara said, "He is, but we are gaining distance. Give me your plan."

"We're going to push towards the service ceiling, get some distance, flip before we stall out, close, and ram the Vulcan down the bastard's throat."

Even as he said it, he cut down the engines and, for a moment, he felt the G-forces on him drop to zero. He floated up against the strap of his seat as the plane hit the peak of the maneuver, then the pilot pushed the nose of the Phantom down again, and started his dive.

The dragon was a few thousand feet below them, struggling to continue upwards through the thinner air and making it an easier target. _Come on,_ Kamokoda willed the animal, _open up!_

But it didn't and the distance was closing rapidly. " _Major!_ " his RIO shouted at him.

And then, there it was, the dragon's mouth snapped open as it drew breath. Kamikoda yanked down on the trigger.

The M61 Vulcan beneath his feet leapt to life, spewing a 20mm hell onto the dragon below. He didn't have enough time to check for results, rolling right at last second to avoid a head on collision. "How about that!" Kamikoda shouted!

"GROUND!" Kumihara shouted back, and the pilot yanked back on the stick again, causing the blood to rush from his head as the aircraft shuddered through the high-G turn.

* * *

Even though he was inside a tank, Sergeant First Class Nakano, found himself reflexively ducking at the noise of the plane roaring over their head. He recovered quickly though, returning his attention to the Type 74's imager and searching for another target.

There, one of the golems was bearing down on another of the LAVs, and the gunner of the armored car was firing wildly up at the four-story monster, hoping to halt its movements so the vehicle could keep out of reach..

"Gunner HEAT Golem!" Nakano called.

"Identified," his gunner called back. "Range 120 meters."

"Up!" his loader warned, prompting Nakano to finish the sequence:

"Fire!"

"On the way!"

At such close range, the shot blasted off the golem's right arm, and a decent chunk of torso, but instead of crumbling, the monster turned in place and raced for the tank.

"Target!" is gunner called, confirming the hit, but no one felt the better for it. Their driver already had the tank in full reverse.

"Almost!" Nakano called over his loader, who announced the next round. "Make it count! Fire!"

The next shot hit the Golem dead center at uncomfortably close range, blowing off the head and more of the torso, but the remaining arm continued to move, and, now in range, swung down at the tank.

The force of the impact was enough to throw the back end of the tank up into the air, before the vehicle settled on its treads again with an uncomfortable _thud_.

Nakano could hear his driver swearing and shying away from a dented metal panel that missed his helmet by centimeters. "Keichii!" the Tank Commander shouted at him, "Get us out of here!"

The Type 74's engine roared as the tank dragged itself out from under the golem, which was starting to lift its arm for another swing. Assuming the next round was ready, Nakano called, "Fire!" again.

"Gun's fucked!" his gunner called.

"What!?"

"Main gun's fucked!"

Nakano pushed himself up just enough to look through the tiny slots in the commander's copula, and, sure enough, the golem's strike had landed clear on his main gun, bending it out of shape. From the position, it was likely the one thing that had saved his driver from getting crushed.

He dropped back into his chair, pulled out his radio, and shouted, "You in the LAV whose ass we pulled out of the fire, it's your fucking turn. Do you have a LAM on you?"

* * *

The sound of the explosion echoed as far as the Alnus Settlement and joined the cacophony of explosions erupting from the Base.

Carol and her group had rushed to the roof of one of the buildings overlooking the amphitheater. From here they could see the bright flashes as heavy guns blasted at the invaders, and trails of orangey-red tracers lanced across the southern field from the walls or the collection of attack helicopters orbiting over the chaos.

Beside Carol, Schumer and Takagi were both on their radios, reaching out to their command posts in hopes of getting information, while Foster pulled out a set of field binoculars to get a closer look at the action. He gave a low whistle.

"That bad?" Carol asked.

"Looks that way."

"I don't understand," Greta said, trying to get a better view. "You said we had a guest, and now we're under attack? Wouldn't Zorzal have learned his lesson?"

"It's not Zorzal's army," Schumer clarified, putting the radio away. "It's Hardy's."

The girl's eyes went wide and she dropped to her knees. "We're going to die, aren't we?"

For a moment, none of them said anything, then Carol looked to Schumer and said, "Do you think they'll… you know…"

"Not my call," Schumer said. "But if I was Hazama or Mullan, I'd be trying to rush in reinforcements right about now. In the meantime, Foster and I are still under orders to get you back to the hangar, but there's no way in hell that we're driving through that mess."

"So we'll stay put," Takagi said. "None of them are coming in this direction, right?"

Foster adjusted his binoculars and said, "Well… not quite."

"What do you mean?"

"We've got something moving down the road to the settlement, and it doesn't have headlights."

Schumer looked to Takagi and said, "Get a hold of your CO and tell them that we need support. _Now._ "

* * *

"Not possible," a Major told Hazama as he relayed Takagi's request. "All of our air assets are tied up right now."

The building shuddered as something, somewhere outside either exploded or took a big explosive round to the face. The operations room had no windows, so he had no way of knowing if it was one of Giselle's monsters being driven back, or one of his vehicle crews going up in flames. "ETA on the 4th?" He asked.

"About an hour"

"That long?"

"We have spotty contact with Colonel Kengun in Italica. They were rearming after a late-afternoon raid against Zorzal, but they're rushing helicopters out to us now."

The General slammed his fist down on the table. "Ishihara doesn't have time for that, and neither do I."

"We put out a call to the other side of the Gate, but moving armor from the bases in Hokkaido would take longer than Kengun's helicopters."

Just then, a phone on Hazama's desk started to ring, which was when he realized that he had forgotten about a separate group. He picked up the phone and knew who the caller was before they said a single word. "Mullan," he said, "To hell with the Diet's rules. What resources can you spare?"

* * *

"Without risking cover for the HML?" Mullan said. It was like the Japanese General had read his mind, and the Colonel had been working out a plan from the instant that the frst alarm went off. "I've got two Hawks, a few Humvees, and about two dozen Special Forces including pararescuemen and Air Combat Controllers."

A pause then, "We were told that all your combat troops were security forces."

"Hines and the 94th Security Forces is assembled from members of the 24th Special Tactics Squadron," Mullan said. "So, officially, you are right. We only brought security forces, and in no way, shape, or form did Secretary Clayton sneak Special Forces into Falmart without Japan's knowledge. These are extenuating circumstances, however, and I'm sure that you're willing to let this slide—"

"Fine! Fine! Whatever you can spare! I'll alert my men, and Colonel?"

"Yes?"

"We are holding for now, but I want all options ready for use, understood?"

The Colonel glanced over his shoulder at the nuclear-armed vehicle and said, "We are ready to launch on command from _STRATCOM, and no one else._ "

"That's all I can ask for." The General ended the call.

Mullan returned the hangar phone to its cradle, and turned to face Captain Hines and his fully-outfitted men. With all of the plans made, he only had to say one word.

"Go."

* * *

Colonel Ishihara couldn't believe his eyes.

One of the large horsefly-like monsters had flown directly into the tail rotor of one of the UH-1 helicopters, which was succumbing to the counter-ration as it sank from the sky.

From his vantage point, the battle seemed dead-even. JSDF armor and infantry were holding the line against Hardy's monsters, but at a clear cost of men and equipment. Some monsters, like the giant bugs, were easily pushed back. Others, like the lava monster, had forced JSDF forces to retreat deeper into the FOB as squads tried one scheme after another to repel it. Colonel Ishihara and Hazama were trying their best to coordinate everyone, but the nature of the surprise attack and makeup of the opposing force made things horrendously difficult—they had trained to fight what had come through the Gate, legionnaires with the occasional ogre and lightly-armored dragon mixed in, not the demonic onslaught which continued to rush their walls.

As such, he was immensely thankful to hear the rumbling of more vehicles approaching from the other side of the base, and shocked to see that they weren't JSDF green, but desert-holdover American tan.

The half-dozen M1116 Humvees disgorged soldiers in sophisticated equipment, but what amazed Ishihara the most was not the top-of the line gear, or seeming stacks of communication equipment some of them carried, or even the insane destruction wrought upon the latest centipedes and ants as the lead Humvee opened up with its Mk19 grenade launcher.

Rather, it was the way that they so calmly waded into it, as if they had done work like this every day of their lives.

Ishihara heard a rapping out the outer door of the command vehicle and opened it to admit an American officer. "Captain HInes, 94th Security," he said. "Where do you need us, Colonel?"

The Colonel gave him some instructions for the Humvees, but added, "What I could use most, though, is another medic or two, and more helicopters."

As if in answer to his call, he heard a roar from outside and glanced out to see one of the two USAF Hawks bearing down on the field beyond the wall. "I've got a Combat Controller out there directing air traffic," Hines said, "And most of my men are Pararescuemen. Tell me how many medics you need, and you'll have them."

"And one more thing," Ishihara said, "Have you anyone to spare for the Alnus Settlement?"

Hines grinned. "Already covered."

* * *

 **Author's note:**

I meant that Shakespeare quote in earnest. If you found any significant technical errors with the above, please PM me so I can clean it up. Later chapters will still be the priority for me, but I feel that combat should be done right, brief as it may be.


	17. Chapter 17: SECO

**Chapter 17: SECO**

 **Alnus Settlement**

When put together, the combined armament of Alnus Settlement's MPs and Carol's group amounted to two rifles, two shotguns, eighteen handguns, and four Toyota High Mobility Vehicles. No grenades, no missile launchers, and no access to air support.

As a result, Carol felt more like she was watching a police barricade than a military fortification while she watched Takagi, two USAF guards, and nineteen Japanese MPs take up positions behind the trucks. From her spot on the second floor of a building overlooking the position, Carol knew in her gut that if the approaching enemy reached the barricade, it would end poorly for the defenders.

The monster finally came to a halt thirty meters from the barricade. In the dim light of the path between the settlement and the base, Carol could just barely make out the shape of what looked like a giant spider, which halted and seemed to observe them with gleaming black eyes. Beside Carol, Greta shrank away from the window. "That's Xeronth of the Abyss," the girl said. "I've… I've heard stories… the second Emperor once sent fifty knights to kill it, and the only one that escaped died of his wounds after telling the tale."

There was a hissing noise from the spider as it rose onto its hind legs, then it threw itself forward, spraying a fine liquid at the barricades. Schumer was one of the ones hit, and he toppled over backwards, swatting at what was now clearly acid as it burned into the side of his face. "FIRE!" Takagi screamed, and the men at the barricades let loose with a volley of bullets.

At thirty meters, the handguns and shotguns were only so effective, and even then, the spider raced out of the way and fired a second spray.

 _How many clips do the MPs have?_ Carol wondered. It couldn't be much, and when they ran out, the spider would have them all.

What they needed was some real firepower. What they needed was—

 _BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR_

The spider disappeared under a barrage of 7.62x51mm NATO rounds that, in a fraction of a second, had chewed up the monster and everything around it in a five-meter radius. A buzz and a roar later, and the site was swept up in the downwash of a US Air Force Pave Hawk which orbited once, giving the door gunner on the GAU-17/A time to survey the scene, then settled down in the open space before the barricade. One of the airmen aboard rushed off and over to Schumer, prompting Foster to look up from his position and wave Carol down.

As he stabilized the Technical Sergeant, the airmen introduced himself to Carol as Master Sergeant Jones, Pararescue, and added, "I'm the one who smacked you in the head a few nights back. Sorry about that, ma'am."

"You also saved us tonight, so we'll call it even," Carol said.

"Good. I don't know what this guy got sprayed with, but I don't usually carry antitoxins. Mullan wants your whole group back on base, and I need to get Schumer to a field hospital. Carol, Greta, Specialist Takagi, keep down and follow my lead. Foster, help me out with this!"

* * *

 **The skies above Alnus**

The 4th Combat Group response team was composed of two dozen helicopters: six Cobras, ten Hueys, and eight Chinooks, all of which opened fire in deadly concert, bathing Giselle's forces below in the hellish orange light of tracer fire and missile explosions.

From his seat in the lead Huey, Colonel Kengun scowled down at the field of battle. Ishihara was a decent commander, but it was clear that the 5th Combat Group had failed to regain the initiative, and ultimately it had been the Americans that had taken up the slack. That much had been clear from the moment that he had heard the southern drawl of the USAF Combat Controller on the airwaves.

That did not matter now. His soldiers and pilots crushed whole armies at Italica and Sadera, had struck the killing blow to the dragons at Mt. Tube, and would win again here. The Colonel picked up his radio set and called out to his counterpart on the ground. "Ishihara, mind sending me a worthy target or two?"

"The golems are resistant to tank rounds, and if you have any ideas for the lava monster, I'll take them!"

Kengun grinned and keyed the frequency for a specific helicopter. "Lieutenant," he called. "I have some targets for your little blue friend."

One of the chinooks skated into position and opened its rear hatch. From within, Lelei la Leleina brandished her magic staff. There was a blinding glow, and a lance of energy rammed into one of the golems below, fracturing it into pieces.

With the pressure diverted, the surviving helicopters of the 5th, the American HH-60Gs, and the pair of F-4 Phantoms turned their weapons on every valid target South of Alnus. Together, the combined might of the JSDF and USAF cut a path of steel and fire through Hardy's army.

The Second Battle of Alnus Hill ended twenty minutes later as the last enemy, the lava monster, was forced back into the ground by magical water jets from Lelei and a pair of JASDF P-15 Oshkosh fire trucks.

* * *

 **Two hundred meters outside of Alnus**

As the Humvee took Mullan through the South part of the base, he couldn't believe the chaos around him.

JSDF medics and USAF pararescuemen tended to the injured, and there seemed to be a lot of them. Some were being loaded into military ambulances and rushed back to the far side of the Gate, others were being stabilized in place. Some, Mullan noted, had been covered in a sheet or tarp, acknowledging that there was no longer anything left to rush.

Beyond the walls was even worse. The twisted and broken bodies of an array of monsters littered the field, ranging from plastered ants to crumbled golems. Off to the west, he could see the mangled corpse of the Ice Dragon, where a small group of JSDF soldiers had gathered to take a picture.

He had seen pictures of the campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan, but the violence there had never been quite so… dense? In a world of precision-guided bombs and localized firefights, the way that the dead and the damaged seemed to pile up in clear sight, yet litter the entire field, was like something out of Cold War Korea, or a WWII beachhead. It was a different kind of fighting, one usually associated with old Soviet styles: if you cannot bury your enemy with bullets, burry them with bodies.

The Humvee whisked him partway across the field to where a collection of vehicles made a tight circle about a tank. As they pulled up, Mullan could hear shrill sobbing coming from the middle of the group.

Inside, Mullan found Hazama, leaning stoically against one of the Toyota HMVs as he smoked a cigarette and stared at the tank across from him. The Type 74 tank looked like it had bulldozed its way through a Texas slaughterhouse, seeing as the front of the vehicle was covered in a drying sheet of gore, and the main gun was bent, as if a second tank had been dropped on it earlier that night. Its crew sat atop it, seemingly deaf to the cries coming from below.

A woman appeared trapped under the left tank tread, both legs completely crushed and the upward slope of the returning track pinning her hips into place. From the headlights of the other vehicles, Mullan could see that her once-fine white dress and blue-skinned face were as splattered with blood as the vehicle she was pinned beneath. She let out another groan as she tried to pick her upper body up to see the new arrival, but ultimately collapsed, either out of exhaustion or pain.

"Colonel!" Hazama said, approaching Mullan with a polite grin. "I would like to introduce you to Ms. Giselle, the Apostle of Hardy and leader of the foul army that attacked us tonight."

"You'll pay for this!" Giselle shouted up at them, "Slanderers of the gods, degenerates! A miserable fate awaits all who oppose Hardy's— _ahhh!_ "

She winced and collapsed again. "I know that Apostles regenerate quickly, but is this really necessary?" Mullan asked. "Can't we lock her up somewhere?"

Hazama said a few words to the tank crew. One of the crew members replied, prompting the other three to smirk at the comment. "Tank Commander Nakano says that it serves her right for commanding a golem to damage his gun," Hazama translated. "He also says that he regrets that it only took five attempts to pin her this way—apparently, the other ways allowed her to tear loose or did not permit her to speak."

"Do you plan on doing anything with her?" Mullan asked.

"Not I, no. My superior, General Nomura, will decide if it's better to hold onto her, and where to keep her if we decide to do that."

A lower-ranking officer approached Hazama with a clipboard and offered it to him, causing Hazama to stop and his smile to fade. Mullan shifted around behind the General and glanced over his shoulder at the notes. He had never been handed one of these himself, but the format was familiar.

K.I.A. 71

D.O.W. 8

W.I.A. 53

Mullan had poked through recent Japanese military history before the deployment through the Gate and, ultimately, found that the JSDF had been in precisely one firefight between the end of WWII, and the beginning of operations at Alnus. In other words, Japan hadn't lost a single man to enemy action since 1945.

"Nana-ju-kyu," Hazama said, his voice barely a whisper. _Seventy-nine._

Realizing what was going on, Giselle began to laugh. "A pittance!" she roared. "And that's nothing, for there's more to come! More of your men will die, General, and this time, we will seize your base, and the city beyond the Gate if we must! We shall fulfill Hardy's demands and close the Gate, no matter what it takes!"

Hazama lowered the clipboard and crouched down next to the Apostle. "What do you mean?" he said.

"What you saw was merely the _first_ wave," Giselle chortled. "One of twelve, and the smallest at that. The next arrives in an hour, you should flee while you still live."

The General stood and heaved a deep breath. Mullan could see the lines in his face the weariness, as the greying soldier slowly looked over to him. The Colonel could see the pain there… and a cold fire starting to burn.

 _Don't you dare!_ Mullan thought, and exclaimed, "Let me contact Okinawa! The 31st MEU is ready to go, and has been waiting for the order to deploy since the Ginza incident."

"There won't be enough time," Hazama hissed.

"Then let me call—"

"One hour, Colonel, Mullan. _One._ You know what must be done."

"But a city full of civilians—"

"I DON'TCARE!" Hazama roared. "It's not your country, Mullan. Would you allow another September 11? I will _not_ permit another Ginza, and I will _NOT_ permit Hardy to touch another of my men. Councilwoman Kouhara wanted decisive action? She will have it!"

The General strode over to his waiting HMV and stated, "I suggest that you get to your launch platform, Colonel. You should be receiving a call shortly."

* * *

 **Outside the Alnus FOB Field Hospital**

Foster's eyes widened and he raced over to Carol, who was comforting Greta outside of the medical center. "It's Mullan," he told her, handing over his radio set. "He says it's urgent."

Carol gave him a confused look and keyed the radio. "Yes, Colonel?" she said.

"Per our agreed upon policy," Mullan said. "I'm letting you know that there will be a rocket launching in one hour."

The woman was on her feet instantly, gripping the handset tightly as she replied, "What!? But there's over a hundred thousand—"

" _I know about the fucking civilians,_ " Mullan spat. "Hazama's convinced that more waves from Hardy are on the way, and that her end target is the Gate and Tokyo. Giselle says that Hardy's plan is to close the Gate, and the fact that Hazama refused was why they attacked to begin with. Regardless, my superiors will likely assume that Hardy's influence on Earth's skies makes the US a potential target. They will order me to launch."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're the one person here not under orders, and you're a scientist. If you have a good scientific way to achieve an identical effect against Hardy without slaughtering a city's worth of families, or a valid reason as to why this attack won't work, I need to know _now._ "

 _But I'm a rocket scientist,_ she thought, _not an intelligence officer or a weapons engineer._

"I don't know!" Carol cried, lifting a palm to her forehead, "I know as much as you do!"

A pause, then, Mullan, his voice grave, said, "Heaven help us both."

Carol let the handset fall from her hands and dropped to the dirt. Greta rushed to her side, begging to know what was wrong.

"Something awful is about to happen, and I don't know what to do," Carol said, her voice low and on the verge of tears. All that knowledge on space, on astronomy, all of it was functionally useless here. Mullan had depended on her for a way out, and now a hundred thousand innocents in Bellnahgo were going to die. "I'm—I'm sorry, Greta, I—"

But Greta placed a hand on her mouth to stop her, then turned the scientist in place before getting down on her knees next to her. She placed her hands together and asked Carol, "Do you remember the words?"

And that was when Carol noticed that they were facing into the wind. "We're going to pray?" she asked.

Greta cocked her head. "In your world, isn't it what you do when you can't do anything else?"

The statement wasn't false, but Carol had never done anything like this before. Not to this degree. Not since she was very, very young. She placed her hands together and closed her eyes.

"Goddess of Study, La, the one that dwells"

 _And here I am, praying to a god of Falmart, just as Mullan is about to go nuke one,_ Carol thought, _I must be going insane._

"Between all words and speech and life that's shown,"

 _Who am I even talking to, anyway. Hardy might listen to these things, but does La? What if La's on Hardy's side? What if she's not and wants to see Hardy die as much as Hazama does?_

"Who grants the means to let us drive away"

 _Why must all of Falmart be so militant? Didn't the Japanese come here to end all that? Or are we all here to add our own flavor of bloodshed._

"The shrouds which swathe the sum of what is known."

 _Were it so easy… but if someone was going to show me what to do, they would have appeared by now, wouldn't they? What if there's nothing else to learn? What if blowing up Bellnahgo is the only option?_

"I thank thee for thy studying technique"

 _People are about to die, and I'm PRAYING._

"And granting me the knowledge which I earn."

 _If only the lecture at the Pentagon had covered 'How to stop a nuclear war' instead of Unstable. SR-Phizons. What a waste of time._

"Open my mind to those who wish to teach,"

 _And now it's all for nothing. Greta was an adorable lecturer too. I would have liked to have seen her present the mapping results. Such a shame about the Sakura satellite._

Carol stopped, the last word becoming stuck in her head. _Satellite. The satellite. The satellite that exploded when it hit the distortion in the sky._

"And show me ways to grow—"

" **OH SHIT!** " Carol leapt to her feet. "The satellite exploded _**first**_ **."**

Now she had caught Takagi's attention. The JSDF specialist walked up to her and responded with a classic Japanese " _Ehhhhhh?_ "

The satellite exploded first, _before_ the alarms had gone off and Giselle announced her intention to attack. There hadn't been any reason to destroy the satellite yet. For that matter, the distortions had been noticed by Flat and Shirai long before there had been any satellite to destroy, or any space program in the Special Region that could launch one.

This opened an interesting possibility: _What if the distortions were_ NOT _caused by Hardy?_

Yet, that went completely against Yanagida's dossier on the trip to Bellnahgo. If the report's claims on the space distortions were untrue, then what if the rest of the report was wrong? What if they had mischaracterized the whole attack? What if the nuke didn't solve the problem? What if they were about to kill a hundred thousand people over nothing?

Only one person knew for sure. Only one person had reported to Yanagida in the first place.

Only one person could help her now.

Carol faced Takagi and said, " _Where is Itami Youji?_ "

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Based on the response for prior chapters, my current plan is to release Chapters 18 and 19 at the same time. This means that it may take a little longer for both, but as a result you will get the full climax all at once.


	18. Chapter 18: Orbital Operations

**Chapter 18: Orbital Operations**

 **T - 0:29:00… AND COUNTING**

 **Outside a Barracks, Alnus FOB**

"That rocket cannot be allowed to fly!"

Itami and much of Recon-3 seemed surprised at Carol's sudden approach and outburst. Some replied the same way as Takagi had minutes earlier. " _Ehhhh?_ " Others, like Lelei, sat in cold silence with a cocked head or raised eyebrow.

Rory, naturally, burst out laughing. "Took you long enough!" She shouted.

"Why?" Itami asked, his eyes narrowing. "Rory, what's this about?"

"The Americans were lying," Rory said with a gleeful smile. "One of their rockets, the rocket they're about to launch, is a weapon."

Carol noticed the color drain from the faces of the JSDF soldiers. They had probably realized what was going on immediately, but Special Region members like Tuka still seemed confused. "A weapon?"

Carol wanted to say something, but stopped. Foster and Schumer were still back at the field hospital, but if it ever came out that she had broken her non-disclosure contract…

Before she had time to complete the moral debate, Greta said, "It's called a Nuclear weapon. I… I learned about them at a museum in the United States."

That was all it took. Carol found herself being lifted by the collar of her shirt as Itami yelled into her face. "YOU BROUGHT THAT SHIT HERE!? HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!"

No one intervened. Greta was likely too scared, and the JSDF soldiers behind Itami liked ready to jump at her themselves. "I don't understand!" Tuka cried. "Nuclear—why are you acting this way? What's so serious about this thing?"

Itami turned his head to face her. "You have legendary weapons on Falmart. Big scary weapons with names that they write stories about. We don't have those on Earth… _didn't_ , until the Americans invented one. An atomic bomb, Tuka, ignites the sky and burns, and burns, and burns until everyone and everything beneath it is reduced to ash and rubble. Your legendary weapons are designed for slaying people and monsters? The atomic bomb is designed to slaughter whole cities. _That_ is what the Americans brought to the Special Region."

"I didn't know!" Carol pleaded.

"Bullshit. I'm taking you to Hazama."

" _It was Japan's idea!_ "

"What do you mean, _Japan's idea?_ Your country has lorded over mine for the past three generations."

"That was _before_ Hakone," Carol explained. It was all coming out now, contract or not. "Your government threatened to make the Hakone Incident public unless the US agreed to provide a nuclear deterrent against Hardy!"

Itami let her go. "What?"

"The Americans were told that Hardy was responsible for opening the Gate, the earthquakes in Falmart, and the distortions in the sky, and now—"

"The distortions are caused by the Gate," Lelei stated.

This time it was Takagi who reacted. "But, the report about Bellnahgo says that Hardy declared herself responsible for the distortions."

"Then we seem to have been misquoted," the magician said. "It is the size and continuous existence of the Gate, a path extended across space and time, which is causing the phenomenon you've described. Additionally, while Hardy created the Gate, it was Emperor Molt's men who expanded it beyond a sustainable size."

It came to Carol in a sudden rush. "Of course!" She declared. "Of course! This isn't Hardy's doing! Magic and the Gate are a product of quantum entanglement affecting SR-Phizons because the Phizons of the Gate have been left 'on' for too long! No wonder you're getting earthquakes! And the distortions in the sky are nebula remnants with SR-Phizons in them—it all makes sense now, why didn't I see it before!?"

The JSDF members gave her a confused stare and Itami, who had followed portions of it, explained, "A few weeks ago, we went with Hardy's Apostle, Giselle, to a place in the Western Desert called Knappnai. We witnessed a void which the locals called Apocryph, which seems to be growing and consuming anything that comes into contact with it. We were told that it would continue to grow until the Gate was closed, or the planet was covered."

"So Giselle was telling the truth?" Carol asked. "She said that she attacked because Hardy wanted the Gate shut."

"Of course she would, the planet is literally melting out from under her! What I fail to understand is how none of this made it to Hazama or the Diet. I was quite clear when describing this to…"

He drifted off, shock building up again on his face as he looked across to Takagi. "Do you think—" she started.

Itami finished for her. "Yanagida faked the report! That weaselly little shit, I'll fucking kill him!"

He turned back to his men. "Tuka, Lelei, Kuribayashi, Tomita, get to General Hazama as fast as you can and convince him of what happened here. Dr. Dawson, you must do the same for Colonel Mullan. Takagi, Rory, and I will go to Yanagida for evidence and update the other two teams if the commanding officers don't listen. Go!"

* * *

 **T - 0:24:00**

 **The White House, Washington D.C., United States**

"I understand," President Dirrel said into his secure-line phone. "Good night, Minister Kano."

The Situation Room had emptied out, save for the President, Defense Secretary Clayton, a security detail, and a military aide holding a dark leather case. The last of these was, for the first time in history, about to be called upon to perform his duties in a combat scenario.

As Dirrel placed the handset of the phone back on the receiver, he looked up at Clayton and asked, "There's no way out of this?"

"As we discussed," Clayton said, "If the Japanese are serious about releasing the Hakone Incident to the public, then we risk losing Japan as a strategic ally. From there, China's grip on the Asian side of the Pacific becomes secure, we lose control of trade in the region, and the United States loses global hegemony."

Dirrel gave a grave nod, sighed, and said, "Okay, let's do this."

Clayton nodded at the attendant, who opened and began to unload the black leather case known, colloquially, as the "Nuclear Football." First, he presented and began flipping through the "Black Book," a list of all available nuclear strategies from single tactical strikes to Mutually Assured Destruction versus different enemies. As the attendant flipped through, Dirrel was shocked to see options for not only China, Russia, and North Korea, but also a handful of others that he hadn't expected.

Among the unexpected ones was a single entry for the Special Region labeled OPLAN 8044-18.

Next, Dirrel pulled a small, flat plastic case from his coat pocket and snapped open to extract a credit-card sized printout with a list of five codes on it. One of these, Dirrel knew, was the Nuclear Launch code… the second one, this time, as the NSA rotated both the code placement and this card on a daily basis.

Contrary to what the movies would have you think, there was no souped-up computer with keys to turn or a hand scanner. Instead, the President was directed to a phone that linked directly the necessary parties, and handed an identical handset to Clayton.

Under normal circumstances, the call would go through to the National Military Command Center in the Pentagon, a few miles away. Since this was a special case, however, the call was routed to USSTRATCOM HQ at Offutt Air Force Base, Nebraska.

"Barton," came the reply from the General on the other end.

"This is the President," Dirrel said. "Enact Operation Plan 8044-18"

Silence from the other end, then, "Does SecDef confirm?"

Legally, Clayton could not say no. His job was merely to authenticate that Dirrel was the one speaking. "Robert Clayton here," the Secretary of Defense stated. "I can confirm that the order is from the correct source."

"Authentication code, please."

The President read it out for him. Another pause, then General Barton said, "Dear God, we're actually doing this."

"I'm afraid so, General."

"I'll order the 94th to launch."

"Thank you." The President returned the phone to the receiver, and heaved a deep sigh. One phone call, and he had just condemned an entire city. He looked to Clayton and asked, "Is that it? Is it really that simple?"

Clayton couldn't meet his eyes, but nodded just the same.

* * *

 **T - 0:19:00**

 **Airstrip Outside Alnus FOB**

Mullan had been willing the blinking light above the HML's phone to remain off for the past dozen minutes but, much to his disappointment, a buzzer went off and the light flashed illuminating the message in front of it.

EAM. Emergency Action Message.

Mullan lifted the phone. "94th Missile Squadron."

"Mullan, this is Barton," the General said, his voice low. "I assume you know what this is about?"

A pause. So, it had gone through. Two governments had just decided to use the bomb. _How_ , he thought, _How did no one in Japan protest? How did Dirrel and Clayton just let this slide?_

"Mullan?"

"HML-2 is upright and ready to fire, sir."

"Thanks. The launch code is X-ray, Zulu, Mike, Mike, Zulu, Hotel.

"Copy, X-ray, Zulu, Mike, Mike, Zulu, Hotel. Sir?"

"Yes?"

Mullan paused again, then said, "And we're sure that there's no better way, sir?"

"Colonel, by God, if you have one, I'm all ears."

He didn't have one, of course. Neither had Carol.

"How about this. Procedures state that we must be able to accept an abort order from the President up until the last possible moment. I'll keep this line open. Maybe Dirrel will change his mind. In the meantime, begin launch procedures. We can't risk losing the HML if Alnus gets hit with a second attack."

"Understood, sir."

He lowered the receiver and turned to the two waiting missiliers. They looked about as sick as he felt. "Your orders, sir?" Major Becker asked.

Mullan heaved a deep sigh. "We are go for launch."

* * *

 **T -0:14:00**

 **Alnus Intelligence and Ops Offices**

The door to Yanagida's office didn't so much open as disintegrated under the force of Rory's Halberd. For a fraction of a second, the rabbit-warrior Delilah was moving towards her master's defense, but the Apostle was faster, knocking her to the side of the room and calling back, "All clear, Itami!"

By this point, Yanagida had pushed away from his desk and was opening a desk drawer for a gun before Itami entered the room, reached over the desk, and slammed the drawer shut on the intelligence officer's fingers. "What the hell!?" Yanagida shouted up at him. "Itami, let—"

"You lied to them," Itami spat.

Yanagida shot a confused look up at the Lieutenant. "What?"

"Bellnahgo, the Earthquakes, the Gate… you lied in your report."

"I did not—"

By this point, Takagi had entered the room as was digging through one of the filing cabinets near the back. A few seconds later, she extracted one and read the contents aloud, "According to Lieutenant Itami, the Goddess Hardy claimed all responsibility for the Earthquakes and sky distortions during the interview, and implied the potential to construct additional Gates."

"It's a complete warping of the facts," Itami said, "And the Americans are about to _nuke_ Bellnahgo because of it!"

The expression on Yanagida's face changed. He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I want to know _why._ "

"Any testimony from Itami or his squad will prove your report to be falsified, sir," Takagi pointed out. "May as well come clean."

But Yanagida was still lingering a few lines back. "An atomic bomb… yes, yes, that would do the job nicely."

He gave Itami a cold grin and said, "In your report, you stated that Hardy took over Lelei's body and… did things to her. Tell me, how did that make you feel, knowing that there was nothing that you, or anyone for that matter, could do to stop it?

"Japan's future success in the Special Region is dependent upon complete dominance of the occupied lands, and sovereignty over the people and objects within it. What's the point of investing trillions of Yen in a project if some God can waltz through, upending everything with monsters and disasters and the possession of government officials? Hardy will serve as an example to every other God of this wretched planet that Japan is not to be touched, and not to be interfered with."

"With a city of civilians paying the price?" Itami asked.

"Acceptable collateral damage."

Takagi reached into the breast pocket of her uniform and pulled out a digital voice recorder. "Got it," she said, and tossed it to Rory, who raced out of the room with it.

* * *

 **T - 0:06:31**

 **Airstrip**

It had taken some convincing to get Foster away from the field hospital, but he eventually obliged, and together they were riding across the airfield in the direction of the upright HML.

Carol went through the plan in her head a fifth time. She had a limited understanding of quantum mechanics from her university days, but she felt that her understanding of SR-Phizons was enough to help her make her point. More importantly, if she could phrase things the right way, she might yet make both sides happy.

Their Humvee screeched to a halt at the HML's defensive line, and Carol barreled out. Greta, they knew from last time, would need to wait in the vehicle.

Mullan met her halfway to the command trailer. He didn't ask her why she was there—he didn't need to, the wild look on her face told him enough. He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her the rest of the way.

"Has the order come through?" She asked, but the activity in the trailer answered her question for her:

"All-call enable code confirmed," Becker stated, the missilier continuing through his firing procedure as if nothing had happened. "Step sixteen, set enable switch to down and locked."

At the back of the trailer, Mullan lifted the handset again and told the person on the other end, "I have your reason…. right, standing by."

He looked over to Carol and asked, "You ready for this?"

"I talked to Generals at the Pentagon about a week ago. I can do it."

Mullan shook his head and said into the receiver, "Yes—yes sir, this is Colonel Mullan, 94th Missile Wing. I have someone who needs to talk to you," and handed a second handset to Carol.

The scientist put the handset up to her ear and mouth and said, "I don't know who I'm talking to, but you need to stop this whole thing now. You're about to make a huge mistake."

The second that the man on the other end of the line started to speak, he needed no introduction. Carol knew that voice from dozens of speeches, news reports, and a year-long election cycle.

"Oh?" said the President of the United States, "This better be good."

Carol nearly dropped the phone, "Oh, I—I Mr. President—"

"We're on the clock," Dirrel said, "Who the hell is this? Do you have a reason or not?"

Of course, she thought, of course it would be the President. The nukes couldn't be authorized for release without his say-so, and so here he was.

"Mr. Dirrel," she said, "My name is Carol Dawson. I'm with NASA. I have just been informed that elements of the report on the Bellnahgo expedition were fabricated. The Japanese are asking you to launch over a fake report."

Another familiar voice came on the line. "This is Robert Clayton," the Secretary of Defense said. "Dawson? That's a hell of a claim, where are you getting this from?"

"Lieutenant Itami Youji, the leader of the expedition."

A pause, then some hurried discussion from the other end before Clayton was back on the line. "Not good enough," he said, "We know that Hardy can mentally compromise people, and he's already traveling around with an Apostle of Emroy. I don't know much about the cosmic politics of the Falmart Parthenon, but we need more than 'Itami said so.'"

"Fine, remember the lecture at the Pentagon?"

"I do."

"Magic in the Special Region, including the Gate, is a product of a destabilized particle called an SR-Phizon. When the particle is energized for long enough, it destabilizes the matter around it. This manifesting both here as Earthquakes, and above the skies of both planets in the form of space distortions. They're not distortions at all. Administrator Kosinski pointed out that Phizons are protected from solar radiation by molecular nebulae. Think about it—they are so easily visible in Falmart's skies but smaller in Earth's skies because Sol has cleared its local space of molecular nebulae, while Falmart's star has not. You're not looking at Hardy rending the sky apart, you're looking at the Phizons of the Gate affecting the closest available Phizons by Earth, the ones in a nearby nebula!"

Just then, she heard a commotion from outside the trailer, some shouts, and Mullan rushed out to have a look.

"Okay," Clayton said, "And if that's the case, then the Gate should also be affecting the closest Phizons on the Falmart side of the Gate as well. If that's the case, what's your theory for why Alnus hasn't melted out from under you?""

 _Shit!_ Carol scrambled to find a reason, and eventually blurted, "It only does that on the Earth side because there aren't any SR-Phizons on Earth. On the Special Region side, it's more random. The most prominent location is in a desert over a thousand kilometers Northwest of here, but I am sure that there are other examples both on the planet and beyond its atmosphere."

No response, she clearly wasn't getting through.

"Step seventeen," the Major said. "Initiate key pressed, wait for OID countdown, and confirm enabling of co-op code."

"Carol," Clayton said. "Even if you're right on both accounts, the fact of the matter is that Hardy attacked Alnus, and is going to attack again. We would prefer to solve this conventionally, but our hands are tied. We cannot simply send the Marines to invade mainland Japan. Right now, if we want to take out the enemy command, that rocket is our only option."

Before Carol could respond, she was shocked to see not Mullan renter the trailer, but _Rory_. The two missiliers turned in their seats, hands going to their sidearms, but Mullan jumped aboard after her saying, "I let her through! Tell them!"

Rory looked Carol dead in the eye and said, "Hardy's bluffing."

Carol felt her blood turn to ice. "Bluffing?"

"Who's bluffing?" Clayton called from the other side of handset, "What's going on over there?"

"Perhaps in your stories and fantasies on Earth, you imagine your enemies as having endless hordes," Rory said. "But the reality is that a world can contain only so many monsters before it becomes unlivable. I have traveled Falmart for nearly nine hundred years, and most of Hardy's tools currently lie dead on the field beyond Alnus. A spectacular feat, to be sure, but I can assure you, for Hardy to commit to another attack, she will need to wait for monsters to arrive from other lands. A second wave an hour after expending a continent of beasts against you? Hah!"

Carol relayed the message, and Clayton sighed. "I told you, we are not willing to trust the opinion of someone involved in cosmic politics—"

"Fuck this!" Carol shouted. "Mr. Dirrel, are you even listening? We're here in the Special Region because people in Washington panicked and struck first, before they knew all the facts, because of what was, ultimately, a bluff by Russia and China. For your actions, we suffered a geopolitical crisis and now we're having a nuclear one. I've given you an intelligence reason, a scientific reason, and a tactical reason not to launch. If the Japanese are saying that they'd plunge the world into a new Cold War over this, then they're bluffing too."

She steeled herself and added, "The last line of a major prayer here in Falmart is 'Teach me ways to grow from what I learn.' I'm begging you, Mr. President, learn from your past mistakes. _Do not repeat Hakone._ "

"Step eighteen, in launch action at this time," Becker stated. "Hands on keys."

Dead silence. _Please_ , Carol thought, _please!_

"Turn on my mark. Three, two, o—"

"STOP!" Dirrel shouted, "Stop the launch!"

"ABORT!" Mullan called to his men, who immediately took their hands away from the launch keys.

"Copy Abort!" Becker called, flipping several switches to safe the rocket. "Peters, ELC?"

"ELC Message did NOT transmit," Missilier Peters replied then, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, muttered, " _Jesus Christ!_ "

"New plan," the President said. "You will monitor up to the last second, and you will not turn those keys until it is clear and obvious that a second wave is attacking. Got that? In the meantime, Clayton, what's our closest available force we can dump into Falmart? And get Kano back on the line, we're going to have a chat!"

* * *

 **T - 0:00:30**

From the jump seat of the Pave Hawk helicopter, Captain Hines scanned the field south of Alnus with his night vision goggles. A few feet away, one of his men gripped the handles of his GAU-17/A, waiting.

He flipped up his goggles and checked his wristwatch. From the time that Giselle had announced the existence of a second wave, nearly the full hour had passed.

So, they watched, and they waited. He called on his radio set, "Anything?"

"Nope," his pilot called out.

The pilot of the other Hawk gave the same response.

"Nothing," his Combat Controller on the ground replied. "And the JSDF loop's quiet too."

Hines didn't like that, so he clarified, "No tremors either? They dug out of the ground last time."

"794th Security," Lt. Garcia called out. "Nothing from the airfield, and that's with all our vehicles at a dead stop."

"Then where are they?" Hines asked.

Seconds turned to minutes, and Hines pulled out a cigarette as the reality of the situation began to dawn on him. _Really?_ He thought. _REALLY?_

Nearly forty minutes later, his radio snapped on. "All units, this is Mullan," their CO called. "The operation is over. The Diet has called an immediate halt to all ongoing operations by General Hazama, and Marines from the _Ronald Reagan_ Carrier Strike Group are coming through the Gate as we speak. We're putting together a new plan to get back at the bitch that hit us tonight. In the meantime, RTB and await further orders."

As the helicopter turned to head back to base, Hines shook his head and tossed his cigarette out of the open side of the helicopter. _What a fucking night!_


	19. Chapter 19: Reentry

**Chapter 19: Reentry**

 **SEVEN HOURS LATER**

 **Yokosuka Navy Base, Japan**

Carol hadn't expected to return here, especially not with the present company.

She was sitting in a conference room at the end of a long table. Directly across from her, a projector screen was divided between Secretary of Defense Clayton, and Defense Minister Kano. Colonel Mullan sat to her left, flipping once more through the last few pages of the new report, and to his left sat Major Becker, who was finishing off a cup of coffee and a bagel.

The other side of the table was also slowly working their way through the new report. Closest to her was the acting commanding officer of the JSDF Special Task Force, Colonel Kengun, who scowled down at the report as he read it. With the revelation of Yanagida's false reports, Hazama's actions had been called into question and the officer had been immediately returned to Japan, pending a thorough review of the whole incident.

Next to him was Koji Sugawara, there to act as a diplomat and interpreter, and Itami Youji who had given up a few pages in to help the person sitting next to him.

The second to last member of the assembled group was a young woman in ornate armor with deep red hair. This, Carol had been told, was Princess Pina Co Lada, heir to the throne of Falmart's Empire. As Carol watched her, she could see that the princess was trying her best to keep her composure, but was clearly lost with some of the more complicated scientific descriptions in the report.

At the very end of the table, her copy of the report completely unopened, was Rory Mercury who swirled a straw around her own cup of coffee for a moment before stating, "I didn't think it possible. How could you Earth people invent a _slower_ way of conducting a strategy meeting?"

"When two modern nations are engaged in military cooperation, it's important to get all the details right," Sugawara explained. "With the speed of our weapons and technology, we are lucky to catch a mistake before it happens, as we witnessed with the rocket last night."

"I don't quite understand," Pina said. "This… atomic bomb… how will it attack Hardy without being pointed at Bellnahgo?"

Though Hardy had not attempted a second wave, Japan was still desperate for some kind of retaliatory attack over the soldiers that had been killed at Alnus. Now that Bellnahgo was out of the question, Carol had stayed up late with members of DARPA and Rory, trying to determine if such an attack was still possible. The answer was the report in front of them.

"Think of it like this," Carol explained. "Humans, like you and me, are centralized intelligences. All of our thinking parts sit in our brains, which is in one location: inside our heads. With Hardy and the other Gods of Falmart, that thinking _stuff_ is spread out all over Falmart. This means that, even though some of that stuff might be concentrated in places like Bellnahgo, Hardy is spread out all over your planet. If you think about it, it explains how she's able to listen in on conversations occurring miles and miles away, or influence events in places that are beyond the line of sight from her city. This means that we could, in theory, drop the atom bomb anywhere we wanted and still 'hit' Hardy."

She opened her report and pulled out a page so that Pina could see it. This was the legacy of JAXA's _Sakura_ mapping satellite; a complete, detailed map of the continents, oceans, and seas of the Special Region. "Our plan is to launch the weapon as an air burst just above the ocean to the Southeast of Falmart. By doing it this way, we avoid injuring any civilians, we reduce the potential of future injuries from radioactive fallout, and we stick it to Hardy, all in the same move."

"It is also," Rory interrupted, "Incredibly boring. What's the value of a weapon if you can't spread a little fear with it?"

"We're still not firing it at Zorzal," Pina said, "If that's what you meant."

But a wicked smile appeared on Rory's face. "Zorzal is your project, Pina, I wouldn't take that from you. No… my target is far more inviting."

She reached into her dress and yanked out a letter, pressed with Falmart's Imperial seal.

"Is that the one you took off the courier east of Rondel?" Itami asked.

"Indeed it is!" The apostle passed the letter to Pina who read it aloud.

"To King Selecus at Reguezal Bay,

"The situation has developed to the point that we cannot hold against the otherworldly invaders. Per our initial agreement, upon successful repulsion of the invaders, I, Zorzal El Caesar, agree to cede all land south and west of the Dumas mountains to the—"

She stopped, and the blood drained from her face, "To the Carenth Kingdom."

"This is the first we're hearing about them," Mullan said. "Were you keeping something from us?"

"It's a history item," Itami said. "Pina first told me about them the day after you launched your first rocket. A few hundred years ago, the Carenth Kingdom invaded the Falmart Empire from the Southwest. The people of Falmart drove them back at a high cost, and the campaign informs parts of their culture and war tactics to this day… including why they seem to rush into our guns at every battle."

"A war on two fronts would be irritating," Kengun mused, "but not insurmountable. If we sent the 7th Armor Division, they would probably make short work of them."

"Do you really want to do that, especially with the North Koreans acting up?" Clayton asked. "I imagine that General Nomura wouldn't agree, Colonel. If you let us send through elements of the 31st MEU, however—"

"Out of the question," Kano said. "The added Marines from the 5th CSG on top of the 94th Missile Wing is enough as it is. The Diet is willing to bend a little on such matters, but we are not willing to transform operations on the far side of the Gate into an American-led campaign."

" _Or_ ," Rory cut in, "You can solve two problems with one rocket."

The rest of the table turned to look at her. "If we kill the King of Carenth, it might produce a retaliatory attack, and continue the campaign," Sugawara pointed out.

Rory rolled her eyes, "Then set the weapon off _near_ King Selecus—not close enough to kill him, but near enough to send him and his army fleeing in terror."

Pina nodded, satisfied, then asked the others, "Can it be done?"

"Can you show us where the bay is?" Mullan asked, and Pina did so.

Becker looked down on the map and said, "If you can give me coordinates, we can get the weapon on target with a 90-meter accuracy. Maps from _Sakura_ suggest that any of the nasty stuff should get blown out to sea, but the important part is that we're definitely in range. Lower apogee and entry speed than the two test flights, but it's not like anyone in the Special Region is operating an ABM system."

"The President will need to approve," Clayton said, "And he will probably request an overflight of the target to confirm that this bay doesn't put the bomb down near a population center, but yes, I think this is doable."

Pina looked to the Japanese members of the group, and was shocked to see that they lacked the enthusiasm of the Americans. "Is… is there something wrong with the plan?" She asked.

Sugawara stood and said, "Officially, it is the policy of the Government of Japan to condemn all nuclear weapon tests or attacks and so, Secretary, Colonel, I cannot officially approve of this."

"I don't understand," Pina said. "For such a powerful weapon, why make such a silly policy—"

"Pina," Itami snapped. "A few weeks ago, I told you that Japan acted like your Empire. You asked me what changed. Do you recall that conversation?"

"Yes, of course I—" she looked around the table and slowly realized the implications of the statement. Eventually, she turned back to Itami and asked, "How many times?"

"Twice," Kengun said, "At a cost of two hundred thousand people." He shot her a cold look. "Including most of my grandmother's family."

"However," Kano stated from the projector, "The government of Japan does not officially recognize there as being any nuclear weapons in the Special Region at this time, and wishes Dr. Carol Dawson and the 94th Missile Wing the best of luck with their third _scientific_ rocket launch."

Itami shot the Minister a glare. "So we're just going to ignore the fact that we're about to nuke someone?"

"That's how politics works, Itami. It makes me glad that both sides can see reason," Pina said, standing. "Now, unless there is anything else—"

"Yeah," Mullan said, "There most definitely is something else."

The Princess stopped, and the Colonel had the attention of the entire room.

"Since you and Rory seem so excited about this, I think we should give both of you the honor of turning the launch keys."

A look of fear flickered over Pina's face, but she hid it quickly with a smile. "Oh, that won't be necessary."

"I disagree," Itami said, catching on. "How can you have an appreciation for something that could end the lives of millions, without having that same power in your hands, at least once?"

"It's settled then," Clayton said. "I will update the President, and then we will partake in a _scientific_ launch, midday, Alnus time. Thank you all for your time, and good luck."

* * *

 **TWO HOURS LATER  
**

 **Alnus FOB**

The rocket launched, and Hardy watched.

She hadn't paid much attention to the first two launches, but this one was different. There was no fanfare at the settlement, more soldiers, and they had almost launched it half a day before, when Giselle made her threat, but had failed to do so after the Americans called her bluff. The past launches had been pretty to look at, but this one… this one had resulted in people running around, shouting about a legendary weapon called an Atomic Bomb, Itami especially.

A city killer. A sky full of fire.

To Hardy, the rocket was a curious automaton. Since it wasn't made of metals from the Special Region, she couldn't influence it at all, but it replied to the tentative breezes she blew at it by adjusting the fire from its tail or letting loose a brief spurt of gas from its nose, rushing faster and faster until she could barely follow it. To her surprise, there was an explosion in the rocket's middle, and the vehicle split in two, the bottom part following away, and the top part growing and new tail of fire so that it could go faster and further.

She followed it up to the edge of the atmosphere, and beneath it as it kept going, faster, ever faster, prompting Hardy to wonder why the Americans would need to build something that went so fast. Perhaps it was like timed magic, and would activate and harm those who fired it if it wasn't far away enough. Perhaps it only worked if it was moving at a particular speed, like an arrow.

Or perhaps the world that the weapon came from had other weapons that could catch up to it, and strike it down before it could complete its strike. Out of curiosity, she reached out to the weapon again but, as it was too far beyond the atmosphere, she couldn't touch it.

But now the rocket split again, the front bursting open to reveal a smaller cone, and the back half dropping off again to produce an even smaller rocket. This time the rocket did not accelerate, but the gas jets on it began firing wildly to get it pointed at _precisely_ the correct orientation before the rocket split one last time. Now that the weapon was reduced to a man-sized cone, Hardy assumed that the pyrotechnics were over, only to be disproven once again as flame jets on the flat end of the cone fired in opposite directions, forcing the vehicle to spin rapidly on its point, like a top.

By the time that the cone finally hit the atmosphere again, it was moving faster than any natural or unnatural object on Falmart. Not the Flame dragons, not arrows, not even the Japanese fighter jets or bullets had ever moved as fast as this. Seeing as it was coming back down, Hardy guessed at the weapon's path and followed it to a bay far to Alnus' south.

There, she was amused to find a battle fleet of hundreds of ships cruising across the waters, all sporting the banners of the Kingdom of Carenth. King Selecus himself was being waited upon in a pavilion on the shore, and was in the process of berating a messenger.

"But Zorzal insists that his courier was intercepted," the messenger stated. "Apparently, the Rondel Council had turned on the Empire just after the courier was dispatched, and the men from the other world killed him before he could deliver the message to us."

"It is inexcusable either way," the King said. "Order the ships back to the beach for one more night. We will depart for Falmart at dawn tomorrow. Once these so-called invaders are driven back, I have half a mind to keep marching and sack Sadera as well."

If they had been looking to the sky at that time, as Hardy and an increasing number of sailors and soldiers were, then they might have noticed the mid-day shooting star as the Mk21 reentry vehicle tore a trail of plasma through the sky during its final descent to the bay beyond.

"But sire," the messenger said. "The rumors from our scouts describe strange machines and weapons—ticks that spit fire, iron elephants, and just last night the men claim to have heard a giant metal beast roaring through the air above the fleet."

"I have no time for fantasy stories," Selecus stated. "They are men, and men alone can only be so powerful."

It was then that the bomb went off.

Within the W87-1 warhead, a spark triggered a series of conventional explosives which forced a core of isotope plutonium-239 in on itself. Decades ago, a similar implosion-triggered fission bomb had turned Nagasaki into a charred smear… but this was a _thermonuclear_ weapon, so this old-style explosive served not as the weapon itself, but merely the primer. No… the primary fuel of destruction was the core of lithium deuteride which, when bombarded by subatomic particles by the exploding fission stage, itself transformed into tritium, a heavy isotope of hydrogen. It was this isotope that had earned this variant of the weapon the name "hydrogen bomb' in the first place.

The tritium fused together, mimicking for one brief, brilliant moment the violence known normally only by stars.

As King Selecus growled down at the messenger, he was interrupted by a blinding flash that caused the entire court to wince away from the ocean-facing side of the pavilion, and the poor few who had been following the warhead's descent to collapse to the ground, clawing at their flash-fried eyes.

In a lucky moment, the King recovered enough to look out over the ocean where, five miles out, a giant white sphere of clouds had bloomed on the horizon. He had no time to ask anyone what it was as he was assaulted by a roar louder than the mightiest thunderclap—a sound which he didn't so much hear as felt ripping through his chest and bones as it knocked him to his knees.

He tried to call for help, to his men, but he couldn't hear himself, much less anyone else, and as such barely had time to register the next horror, a wall of steam and which rushed in from the site of the eruption. He had a fraction of a section to see the furthest out of his ships get torn to splinters by the approaching wall when, in a moment of inspiration, he threw himself to the ground. The resultant gale couldn't have been from any natural storm, for it hit him less like the wind and more like an out-of-control chariot, nearly whipping him end over end as it tore through… and, as if that wasn't enough, the steam as it touched any exposed skin seared him as if the water itself was on fire. The air forced its way into his ears like a pair of nails and he was met with a mind-splitting pain as his eardrums shattered.

What felt like an eternity to Selecus barely lasted a few seconds, before the same wave of pressure and burning smoke was sucked back out to sea.

Like the army leader he tried to be, the King still stumbled to his feet, tried with burning hands to wipe the sand from his eyes, and looked out at the destruction. His fleet had been obliterated, some ships torn entirely to their container beams, others capsized and ripped into larger chunks, still others cast clear upon the beach. Behind him, the pavilion was gone, the trees around it, perhaps originally blown away from the blast, now bowed towards the sea, and the dark god that dominated the horizon beyond.

It was like nothing Selecus had ever seen before, a shadowy tower of ash and fire that reached through the clouds before fanning out in all directions, as if wrecking the land was not enough, as if it was out to consume the sky and everything above it too. No monster from his continent, from folklore, from his deepest childhood nightmare could compare to the demon towering over the bay.

He found himself wanting to plead up at it, willing to offer his lands, his riches, his kingdom, anything to make it retreat back from whatever hellish depths it had escaped from.

It wasn't natural, it didn't even match the Gods' sense of humor, warped as it was. Even the dragons and minotaurs had a certain natural elegance to them, but _this!_

Zorzal in his messages had talked of invaders that brought terrifying machines that rained lightning and flames from the sky. Could the men from the other world truly command such horrifying and enormous power?

As if in answer to his question, the wind whipped around again, and that's when Selecus saw it; the second wave.

In a nuclear detonation, the explosion burns so hotly and powerfully that not only does it annihilate everything within the initial fireball, it eliminates the air within it too. As a result, even as the first flash of radiation and shockwave leave ground zero, the center of the destruction becomes a giant near-vacuum pocket of plasma which, as nature demands, _must_ be filled. So, the fireball and ashes are sucked inward and vent upwards, towards the stratosphere and form the recognizable "mushroom cloud." Relieved of its one shackle to nature, the blast resumes its natural tendency to flow outwards, and the destruction continues.

As such, the head of the mighty kingdom of Carenth was reduced to a wailing child as he screamed up at the sky, _Please, stop! It's enough! STOP! STOP!_

Considering as his eardrums were blown out, he couldn't hear a single one of his own words, nor even truly tell that he was shouting them except for the burning in his lungs. Ultimately, he threw himself back to the ground, cowering in the sand and dirt as hell descended once more.

* * *

 **Outside of Alnus**

He wasn't the only one, of course. In the initial flash of the bomb, six decades of American nuclear science spewed off-number isotopes and high-energy particles and gamma rays in all directions in a radioactive fountain that carried across the oceans and skies for miles and miles and miles.

Hardy had settled her perspective only twenty miles from Ground Zero, and, for the first time in thousands of years, Hardy felt pain.

All that radiation dug into the distributed particles of her being like some fast-acting worm, burying into her and razoring into some fundamental layer that she had long forgotten from a time before her ascension. So, she did what was only natural; she screamed.

She had no lungs or lips to scream with. It didn't matter, she screamed anyway. Those most closely connected to her at her shrine in Bellnahgo collapsed, arms wrapped about their heads in agony. From her place beneath a Japanese Type 74 tank, an Apostle gave voice to the shriek in her head, unable to hold back tears as her mistress' agony flowed from her throat.

Across from her, an Air Force Colonel watched, unflinching.

It took a full ten minutes before Giselle was able to get enough of her bearings to cry up to Mullan, "What have you done!? What have you done to my mistress!?"

Mullan squatted down next to her. Giselle had remained pinned beneath the tank all evening long, still covered in grime and gore and revisited by hourly agony as the metal beast above her repositioned to prevent her from regenerating. The effects of the bomb had only been the capstone on a long night of suffering. More importantly, it confirmed that the United States Air Force had Hardy right where they wanted her.

"Up until today," Mullan explained, "the destruction loosed upon the Special Region by ourselves and our allies has been a kind of combat which we at home call 'conventional warfare.' At its base, it follows the traditional rules of war; armies, navies, men and artillery and logistics. These are things that even Falmart's Empire can understand.

"When Hardy attacked… _when you attacked_ , you made the fatal mistake of offering total war against America and Japan. As signatories to the Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security, America ties its fate to the Japanese people. An attack on them is an attack on us, and in our world, there is one simple, unspoken rule that has safeguarded world peace for over half a century: DO NOT DECLARE TOTAL WAR AGAINST A NUCLEAR-ARMED STATE.

"Today, Ms. Giselle, you and Hardy got a taste of a second kind of combat, which we call 'strategic nuclear warfare.' In a strategic nuclear war, there is little in the way of men and logistics. The artillery is fired for but a moment, and then there is only death.

"So, on behalf of the United States Government, let me paraphrase our warning from the last time we were made to use these weapons. If Hardy or any other god wants a war against us, there will be no glorious or honorable combat, there will be no stories or songs or statues. You have witnessed just one atomic bomb; we have _many_ more. If any god attempts to intervene in the affairs of humanity again, we will _**burn them out of the fucking heavens**_ _."_

Giselle cowered under the glare of the Air Force Officer. Half a day ago, the same man had pleaded with General Hazama not to fire their weapon, and now she understood why. The atomic bomb was a weapon of such fury that if it had been loosed against Bellnahgo, it would have surely butchered the entire city and everyone around it.

She also understood the calm professionalism of the American and JSDF troops, particularly in the face of Imperial Soldiers and dragons. What were they, after all, to a world that possessed such destructive power? If the claim that they had more weapons like this were true… if they had many atom bomb rockets, then one nation could conceivably blast another off the face of the planet before a single sword was drawn or shot was fired. A flame dragon was nothing compared to utter destruction falling from the sky.

Her mistress, a goddess, was powerless before such might. Giselle let go, wishing that the shadow of the tank would consume her, that she could wish her immortality away and die there before the Apocryph destroyed everything. "This world is doomed," she sobbed. "You've—you've killed us all."

"That's up to you."

The Apostle looked up at Mullan. Silhouetted against, the bright midday sky, he looked almost like a god himself. "But you just said—"

"The nuclear age brought Earth two wonderful things that would have been unheard of in any earlier time," the Colonel explained. "First, it made us deeply and seriously interested in particle and relativistic physics. This same understanding saved Bellnahgo from destruction last night, because it gave us the knowledge to let us hit Hardy without killing anyone who wasn't asking for it. It might teach us enough about the Gate to let us control its size and effect on surrounding matter.

"Second, the nuclear age taught us the patience to sit down and talk where past empires would have gone directly to war. That is what the governments of Japan and America would like to offer Hardy and the rest of Falmart's gods. Stay out of our affairs and tell us everything you know about Gates. In exchange, we will stabilize the Gate for you, though we will be doing it on our own terms, with our own people and our own technology. That's what I'm offering you now, the opportunity for Hardy to save her planet… by being willing to sit down and talk."

Giselle received Hardy's answer just seconds later. "She accepts."

* * *

 **The Airstrip**

"Step twenty-four, remove crypto-keys and power down launch system," Peters read out as he last instructions in the launch checklist. With a flick of a switch, the lights, buttons, and CRT screens in the HML cabin dimmed and died, their purpose fulfilled.

"I concur," Becker said, "Now can you help get this...VIP off me?"

Rory had collapsed on top of him. The Apostle had demanded to sit on his lap as they worked their way through the launch procedures and sent the missile on its way. As Becker had a daughter back in the States that looked around Rory's age, her suggestive advances were painfully unwelcome, as was Lieutenant Itami's warning that she apparently experienced physical pleasure over combat destruction.

It was therefore deeply disturbing but not unexpected when, at the planned moment of nuclear detonation, Rory had shrieked in ecstasy, and then fainted on top of the control board.

On Peter's side, Princess Pina had been far more accommodating, but seemed sick and pale. "You should get some air, ma'am," the young airman suggested.

Pina still didn't understand English, but she understood his gestures well enough to rush out of the vehicle and into the arms of the waiting JSDF Lieutenant. Becker watched as the girl wobbled in Itami's arms, tried to offer him a confident smile, then doubled over and vomited.

If nothing else, Becker was thankful that the event had impressed upon Pina the kinds of forces they were working with here. Ideally, Pina would never come to them asking to use one herself.

* * *

 **Reguezal Bay, about 2000 Kilometers South of Alnus**

King Selecus had set out from his Empire with two hundred ships and ten thousand men.

That afternoon, he addressed the survivors of the bomb and, in words he himself could not hear, told them that he planned to retreat. Those that could still hear him nodded. Those that could still see looked at the destruction around them and sighed. All of them nursed horrific burns, save those who, by some incredible shred of luck, had been standing behind a tree or post or ship bulkhead when the weapon activated. The recovered rug of the pavilion that they sat on still sported the long shadows of Selecus' court, burned into the places they stood at the moment of the flash.

They had buried as many bodies as they could safely recover. Most of those who had been aboard ships in the bay had died. Most drowned after their vessels disintegrated around them, and they were thrown to the boiling water, burnt, blind, or deafened.

In the minds of the survivors, they hadn't failed. They hadn't even had the chance to try, and that was all the better. Any race of men or monsters who owned a weapon like the one that hit them was better off left alone.

When Selecus departed the bay to return to his kingdom, he left with seventeen ships and twelve hundred men. A quarter of them died of radiation sickness before they reached a friendly port.

* * *

 **Alnus Settlement, Alnus**

"...and while the data from today's launch won't teach us anything we didn't know already, it serves to help the Americans and Japanese make certain of the things they've learned from their past launches," Greta concluded. "Who knows, perhaps the next launch will be even more spectacular!"

The audience applauded and began to filter out of the amphitheater. Greta slowly made her way over to Carol, who was leaning against the side of the stage, lost in thought. "I can understand why you were so upset in Washington," she told the scientist. "Treating it like just another rocket launch feels… wrong."

Carol nodded.

"And the weapon was truly used? And it destroyed everything underneath it?"

"We won't know with certainty until we hear back from the next flyover," Carol said. The JSDF had sent a Kawasaki C-1 to survey the damage, as none of the other aircraft at Alnus had the range needed to travel to and from the target zone. Even then, she had heard that it was a five-hour round trip.

The Midgetman rocket and reentry vehicle had, of course, covered the distance in less than twenty minutes, but that was the nature of rockets and space travel...faster and faster.

"It's amazing that Earth hasn't destroyed itself with access to weapons like that."

"We came very close," Carol said with a shrug. "There was a time where America and the Soviet Union nearly ended the world."

"What happened?"

"We raced them to the moon instead. Now the United States and Russia operate a giant space station together. Japan and lots of other countries helped too. It reminds us that, even in the hard days, we can find good things to work on together."

Carol looked up at the nearly empty amphitheater, and was shocked to see two men that the recognized sitting near the back. Greta saw them too. "Carol," she said, "Aren't those people from your world?"

Indeed, they were! She hadn't expected to see either of them, and yet, here they were. She waved them down and began by introducing Greta to the older of the two men. "Greta," Carol said, "This is my boss, NASA Administrator Dr. Andrew Kosinski. Sir, I don't—what are you doing here? When did you even get in?"

"Harris and I flew into Narita yesterday," Kosinski explained. "We wanted to see you sooner, but it sounded like there was a lot of commotion going on around the Gate, and we were told to wait. And you must be Greta! Carol's told me all about you, but it's great to finally meet you in person!"

Greta took the Administrator's outstretched hand as Carol translated for him. "It's a pleasure!" she said.

"And this is Mr. Evan Harris," Carol said, introducing the other man. "He's an astronaut."

Harris laughed at Greta's wide-eyed reaction and waved her off. "No, it's technically _former_ astronaut. I left NASA about three years ago, after the Shuttle program ended. I work on a different set of rockets now."

The last few words struck Carol immediately. She turned back to the NASA Administrator and said, "Kosinski, why _exactly_ are you here?"

"Well, remember how I told you that Dirrel was meeting with some people?" he said. "Word of your work with Shirai and the NAOJ, along with the news of the rocket flights have made the rounds back home, and some of the senators weren't all that happy at seeing Japan one-up us by launching _Sakura_ into orbit over here. So, I attended a meeting with some industry leaders, and the President signed an executive order for a single _manned_ suborbital flight."

 _B, M, and B._ "Who won the contract?" Carol asked.

"Virgin Galactic's White Knight II carrier requires a longer runway than what we can make at Alnus," Kosinski explained. "And while Elon desperately wanted to get the contract, SpaceX's Falcon 9, even if we just used the first stage, is too much thrust and requires too much infrastructure to launch it. Ultimately we went with New Shepherd and Blue Origin, since we can launch it from the JAXA Epsilon pad with minimal modifications, and it's designed with manned suborbital flights in mind."

"Who will be flying on it with you?" Greta asked.

"That's the wonderful thing about New Shepherd," Harris explained. "The entire flight is automatic, so technically anyone can ride. We talked it over with the Japanese, and I'll be joined by a JASDF pilot named Kamikoda."

"You should've seen this guy," Kosinski smirked. "The question wasn't even halfway out of the translator's mouth and he was practically halfway into space already."

Greta giggled. It sounded about right to her.

"We're also looking to add two Falmart natives to the flight," Harris explained. "We were recommended a senator named Cicero La Moltose? It should let their Aristocracy feel happy without taking anyone too important to their war effort. We'll be flying out to Italica to see him after this. We came here to the settlement to ask the other person."

Carol thought back to the senator from the day of the second rocket launch. At the time, Cicero had seemed more interested in the potential of buying guns from America and sealing the military treaty with Rondel than any of the science discussed at the event. It was a pity, but if it helped the politics, then it wasn't her place to complain. Besides, NASA had sent one of its own Congressmen into space in 1985, so there was precedence for the choice. "You should take us with you to the next person," Carol said. "We've been talking to these people for over a month now, and it would probably help to have things explained by a familiar face."

"No need," Kosinski said, then, turning to Greta asked, "Well?"

Greta looked back at him with some confusion, then looked to Carol for an explanation. "I'm—I'm sorry, I don't understand—"

"He's offering to send you up on a rocket," Carol said, grinning.

The girl stood there for a moment, stunned, then, matching Carol's grin yelled, "Yes! Yes, I'll do it!"

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

If you've been following the chapter titles, then it's probably occurred to you that this flight's almost over. Chapter 20 will be the last chapter of A Sky Full of Fire, which agrees with the outline I set for myself back in February. If you have any remaining questions about the characters, plot, or writing of the piece, please PM me and I'll make sure that it's covered either in the prose of the chapter itself, in another author's note at the end, or in a direct PM reply as the case permits.


	20. Chapter 20: Landing

**Chapter 20: Landing**

 **THREE WEEKS LATER**

 **Blue Origin/Epsilon Launch Pad, Alnus**

Greta finished strapping herself into the flight seat, tapped into the, small display on her left and said, "Comm check?"

"I hear you just fine," Kamikoda called from the other side of the capsule. As space vehicles went, Blue Origin's capsule was fairly roomy… but still not much larger than the passenger/cargo compartment of one of the Hawk helicopters.

She had since gotten used to this space, considering as Blue Origin had flown the entire team back to the United States for training. A week's worth of simulators, evacuation practice, even wind tunnels and airplanes that simulated low-gravity. What amazed her the most through the whole thing was the attention that observers paid to the health of the to-be astronauts, making sure that they were always healthy, calm, comfortable, and competent.

Harris was last to secure himself in his seat, and gave a thumbs-up to the remaining Blue Origin technician who wished them a pleasant flight before leaving the capsule and sealing the airtight hatch behind him.

Greta looked past her feet to the remaining member of the crew, Senator Cicero who, even after the simulations, still seemed nervous about the launch. "This seems like a younger person's field," he'd confided to her during training, "but as a representative of the true Imperial government, I must keep composure."

As such, she could see him tense up as a mechanical buzzing started up from the rocket below. "Relax," Harris called. "They're testing the winglets. It'll help them recover the rocket later."

"Auto sequence start," the capsule communicator's flight loop called out, and Greta glanced out the window once more. Simulators were one thing, as were pictures from Midgetman or the Japanese Epsilon, but she wanted to see this with her own eyes.

"T-minus ten," the loop radio stated. "Nine, eight, seven, six, five-command engine start-s"

The engine started up beneath them with a loud rumble and the capsule began to shake as the rocket fought against its hold-down clamps. Greta gripped the sides of her chair, waiting.

The rest of the countdown lost in the roar as the rocket was finally let loose. To Greta, it was faster and heavier than the acceleration she'd experienced on airplanes, and she could feel herself being forced against the chair cushions as the rocket gained speed. A few seconds later, the noise had cleared enough for the radio connection to become audible again. "Max-Q…passing through the sound barrier now."

The sound outside suddenly dropped off considerably. While Greta couldn't see much from her angle, she could tell that the color of the sky outside the window was quickly darkening from light blue, to deep indigo, and then deep black. On the other side of the capsule, Kamikoda whooped with glee.

The roar from below dropped away as well and the communicator loop announced, "MECO." Main Engine Cutoff. A moment later, there was a clunking noise and the capsule freed itself of the booster stage. "Welcome to Space!" Harris called. "Well, low space, at least. Unbuckle your straps and have fun, just remember that you need to be back in your seats in four minutes."

Greta was quick to do so, and was pleasantly surprised to find herself rising out of her seat. With slow, careful motions, she grabbed the edge of the chair and reoriented herself so that her head was towards the 'floor' and her feet were towards the ceiling. It was a strange sensation, but as she wasn't falling, she knew with certainty that this was _it_. The 'microgravity' that Carol had spoken of when explaining objects in orbit to her and Flat… what felt like ages ago.

Kamikoda, far more at ease, floated past her with a giant grin on his face. On looking out the window he exclaimed, "Ahh, _sugoi_!" and waved her closer.

Beyond, she could see the planet spread out beneath her. From this height, she could see what Rondel astronomer Passol had theorized so long ago was indeed true; the world was curved into a sphere. Still, that couldn't have prepared her for the scope, the _detail_ of Falmart, with all its plains, deserts and mountains spread out in a grand display.

The lush green of the forests coating the Dumas Mountains, partially swathed in the large shadows of the mountains above them.

The sparkling oceans to the South and West, at once more vast and brilliant than any sapphire.

The brilliant white of a storm system out at sea, dotted with pinpoint flashes of lightning strikes.

And on the horizon, past the day-night line, at least two orangey dots hinting at cities a quarter of a world away. Greta realized, in that moment, _I might be the first resident of Falmart to ever see them… to ever know that they existed in the first place._ "I could stay up here forever," she whispered.

She looked over her shoulder and spotted Cicero looking down at his home continent. A man of war, the Senator had been quick to pontificate to the masses about the strength of their Emperor and Pina's Empire, and the military power derived from their close relationship with Japan and America. Despite this, as he looked down at Falmart, with his whole world displayed beneath him like some tiny battlefield map, he couldn't help but mutter. "Dear gods… that's everything. That's all we have."

Perhaps the sight had humbled him a little.

Kamikoda placed a hand on Greta's shoulder and asked, "How do you feel?"

 _How do I feel?_ She had gone from being an orphan at a young age to a servant, then a refugee. Diligent study and careful application of knowledge had brought her out of the depths, into lectures and museums, and now, regardless of what her sister had said, she was on top of the world.

"I feel," Greta said, "like I can do anything."

* * *

 **Above Okinawa, Japan**

Princess Pina had fought in armor for as long as she could remember, but even after a week of practice, the way that the plate carrier and helmet lay on her body and head felt unusual, and spoke of a different kind of war than the one she was used to fighting.

But then, this entire operation was different from the kind of war she was used to fighting. It had been a different war since Itami and the JSDF had intervened at Italica, and this was merely another phase of that.

"Ready?" Captain Hines called out from in front of her. Some of the Americans from Alnus were still involved in this operation, acting as part of a "24th STS", but there were others too. "Deltas", "SEALs", even some of the Japanese specialist teams that helped her and Itami escape Sadera after her imprisonment there.

Itami himself was standing next to her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said. "You're doing fine. Just like last time, stay low and follow me, okay?"

Pina nodded, and before them the back of the Chinook helicopter opened once more.

In the early morning light, the shape of the structure below them was just visible; an exact replica of the Royal Manor in Telta. Across from them, another set of Chinooks and Black Hawk helicopters disgorged more Special Operations soldiers onto the mock-up, where they moved from pillar to pillar and cover to cover like some grand play.

Which, arguably, it was. The Americans called this a "decapitation" strike and, if it was successful, then Zorzal and his officers would be captured or killed. By practicing on the building below, they assured that the attack would be so fast, that Zorzal's soldiers would be left with no time to counterattack before their commanders were neutralized. Apparently, this way of ending the war was a demand made by America in exchange for withdrawing its sudden surge of Marines into Alnus.

The final operation, and the end of the war, was one week away.

She felt a soft bump as the rear ramp contacted the roof of the building. "Go!" Hines called, and they rushed into 'battle' once more.

* * *

 **Overlooking the Blue Origin Landing Pad, Alnus**

The New Shepherd first stage dropped back to the surface, seemingly about to impact and explode on Alnus. Members of the Rondel Council watched in panic, wincing and raising their hands against the inevitable explosion.

The explosion never came. Just a few thousand feet above the ground, a jet of fire shot out of the bottom of the rocket, and panels toward the base sprang open, revealing four landing legs. There was a sonic boom as the spacecraft came in range, dropping back below subsonic speeds, before slowing to a hover just thirty feet above a concrete landing pad beyond the end of the airstrip. The vehicle wobbled in the air for a moment, making final corrections to its orientation before settling the rest of the way to the ground. New Shepherd announced its own successful landing with a loud hiss as its fuel tanks slowly depressurized.

"Remarkable!" Flat exclaimed, lowering his binoculars. "And it's all done by computer automation? There's no one on board at all?"

"That's exactly the case," Shirai said with a satisfied grin. "Speaking of automation, that reminds me…"

The astronomer opened his laptop and, after paging through for a moment, broke into a wide smile. "They found it!" He exclaimed.

"Found what?"

"You!"

Shirai turned the laptop around to present Flat the picture of a galaxy. "This is NGC 3627, a galaxy in our Leo constellation. It's about 36 million light years away, so this image is technically how the galaxy appeared thirty-six million years ago. With access to Rondel's astronomy records, we were able to establish the position of galaxies in Falmart's night sky to come up with a searchable configuration and geometry. We compared this with galaxy charts from Earth, adjusted for distance changes due to the light-speed time delay, and here we are."

Flat nodded in appreciation, then asked, "Does this mean that, if the Gate closes, people will still be able to travel from Japan to Falmart?"

"Hah! No, unfortunately. Distances like this are prohibitive, and it would take our fastest rocket over a billion years to make the trip. It doesn't matter, though, since we have telescopes and the Gate to help out." He froze, suddenly coming to another realization. "Flat!"

"Yes, Dr. Shirai!?"

"We have _telescopes_ in another galaxy. Do you know what that means? We can look back at the Milky Way! We can finally resolve the debate as to whether it's a spiral or barred-spiral galaxy! We can look back in time and prove or disprove untold theories on galactic evolution! We can use multi-point analyses of the cosmic background to resolve truths on dark matter and dark energy!" He looked about to leap out of his chair, his eyes filled with the list of possibilities.

Flat, completely befuddled, said, "I understood about half of those terms."

"Ah, don't worry, by the time we're through, you will, and who knows?" Shirai said, "Perhaps we'll discover something so profound, that a Japan-Falmart voyage without the Gate could happen after all!"

* * *

 **Overlooking Ginza Plaza, Tokyo, Japan**

The corner conference room looked down on a sight that was once familiar and unfamiliar. The dome that had been built over the Gate had been partially disassembled, and the original structure within was now visible. What was unusual, however, was the swarm of men and machines surrounding it.

General Electric, Mitsubishi, Fermilab, Hitachi, Lockheed Martin. All working in an uneasy concert, but together nonetheless as they began integrating their equipment into the magical portal. Weeks of feverish research by a hundred universities and institutions on both sides of the Pacific had led to the construction of the new augmentations to the Gate.

Defense Secretary Clayton watched it all through the conference room window with a sense of pride. The whole situation had started as a geopolitical nightmare. Now science and industry from Japan and America was about to save two planets.

"And this… thing is going to solve the whole problem?" Giselle asked. She was bound up in a straightjacket, and her scythe was a world away. Half a dozen marines stood at the other end of the room with assault shotguns, in case anything went haywire.

"That seems to be their theory," Rory said, leaning on the other Apostle's shoulder. "Nine hundred years has taught me a great deal about magic, but for the life of me I still cannot wrap my heard around quantum… whatever you're calling it this time."

In all honesty, Clayton himself had barely been able to keep up with half the terms thrown around. The device itself had an absurdly long name with more syllables than he cared to pronounce, but had come to be informally called, "The Iris"

"The idea is that this machine reverse-engineers the combination of technology and magical entanglement that Emperor Molt's forces used to enlarge the Gate to its present size." Clayton explained. He felt like a broken record by that point, as he had given the same explanation to not just American and Japanese politicians, but also to European, Russian, and Chinese politicians who were all equally paranoid about the defense ramifications. "This allows us to shrink the tunnel down to the diameter of our fiber optic bundle, and project a Phizon-entanglement bottling effect on both sides of the Gate to prevent the further spread of Apocryph. As a result, your world doesn't melt, our sky doesn't change, and we maintain a means of contact between both ends. If we wish to transport people or materials, then we dilate the tunnel back to its current size just for long enough that the move can occur."

Giselle frowned. "This doesn't solve the problem. As long as the two sides of the Gate are connected, the Apocryph as Knappnai will continue to grow."

"We know," Clayton. "We also know that the reduced-size Gate will slow that rate of growth by a factor of nearly one thousand… more than long enough for our scientists to perfect Magic and Gate technology on their own, so that we can dial up Falmart with ease should closing the Gate ever become necessary."

"Some of the Gods might not be happy to hear that."

"Then those Gods will be made to change their minds," Rory said simply. The atomic bomb had resulted in a crisis in the Special Region's Parthenon. The attack might have been directed at Hardy, but all the Gods had felt the effects.

The State Department had dispatched an officer to press Rory and Giselle for information, and the state of cosmic politics in the Special Region in response to the bomb had been interesting. Lunayur (Music/Beauty), Wareharun (Plants and Forests), and Miritta (Fertility) were each respectively terrified and backed Hardy's contract with Mullan more out of fear than anything else. Zufmuut (Order), Deldort (Contracts), and Elange (Knowledge) similarly backed the contract out of respect for American and Japanese technological superiority. The nature of the destruction left Flare (Sunlight) and Duncan (Smithing) curious, but ultimately cautious.

La (Wisdom) was perhaps the only one of the group to not only support the treaty, but to view it in a positive light. After all, it was one of her prayers that had limited the loss of innocent life, and she fully understood the ramifications of all options involved.

Palapon (Revenge) had been the only one to push for a counterattack, but had been scared off when the other gods pointed out that they had no idea where additional American bombs might be, had no understanding of how well the Americans could hide them, and had no defenses whatsoever if the Americans decided to detonate more of them. Rory had asked if Earth nations encountered the same problems, and Clayton had calmly answered, "All the time. We call it Nuclear Deterrence."

This left Emroy (Darkness). "Emroy has never felt so divided in his entire existence," Rory declared. "On the one hand, to be affected by a nuclear bomb is not a pleasant experience. On the other hand, such a masterwork of fear and devastation… if Gods could cry, my master would have flooded Falmart over the beauty of such a weapon."

"So you intend to master Gate travel with technology," Giselle mused. "And how does America plan to use this newfound power, once you obtain it?"

Clayton thought to the DARPA meetings already ongoing at the Pentagon to discuss just that. Discussions were already calling for everything from Mars missions to instantaneous weapons deployment. The technology was still decades away but someday…

…someday it would change everything.

Ultimately, Clayton answered with, "Pioneering, Ms. Giselle. We shall go pioneering."

* * *

 **Overlooking the Alnus FOB**

"So that's it?" Carol asked. "You're leaving?"

She and Mullan were alone, save a few distant guards, on a hill overlooking the Alnus airstrip. The smoke from the New Shepherd Landing had started to dissipate, and in the distance, Carol could see the chutes at the capsule made its own descent.

"There's not much reason to stay," Mullan said. "With the last HML empty and overflights of Reguezal Bay at an end, my job's finished here. Besides, the Marines and the JSDF have things well under control."

"What about the Gods? Don't we still need to keep a nuclear deterrence in the Special Region?"

He gave her a dry grin. "Officially, there are no nuclear weapons in the Special Region. Unofficially, you should know better than to ask that question, Carol. If leaking the Hakone treaty to Itami hadn't saved everyone, you'd probably be in a lot of trouble right now."

"We technically saved two planets," Carol pointed out. "Dirrel should've given us medals."

"You should be thankful that he stopped at an Executive Pardon. You don't know the definition of boring until you've sat through a military award ceremony."

Carol snorted at that one. "Where are you going after this?"

"Seoul, actually. Midgetman performed so well in the Special Region that there's a renewed interest in keeping them as an option against that fat guy north of the 38th. Even if they're not willing to admit it publicly, I'm the first officer to launch a nuke against an enemy target since 1945. That gives me 'experience', apparently. You?"

"Deep Space Gateway."

"Pardon?"

"The follow-up to the International Space Station is a project called the Deep Space Gateway. It's a smaller space station that will sit in High Lunar Orbit and will offer both a platform for moon surface sorties, and a place to construct future Mars ships. SLS will be sending up the main modules while commercial partners help with the fittings. JAXA wants to add their own full-size module, so I'll be sticking around Tokyo for a while longer, helping to coordinate that."

"It's a hell of a project."

"I'm just happy that we're moving along with it." She smiled off at the horizon. "You know…"

"What?" Mullan said.

"It's nothing, really, just a goofy thought."

"Really, what is it?"

"I was just thinking, with people like Greta and the Rondel Council around, there's always going to be some interest in rocketry here in Falmart. I wonder how it will affect their industry, or if they'll try to reach their own moon like we did."

Mullan shrugged. "I wonder if they'll have developed their own nukes by then. It seems like a long way off."

"Sixty-six years from Kitty Hawk to the Sea of Tranquility. About thirty years from the first air-dropped bomb to the first atomic one. We might not see it, but the next generation might."

The Colonel laughed and shook his head. "The Empire of Falmart with rockets and nukes… Carol, are you familiar with the phrase, _playing with fire?_ "

"Sure, but I also know that people who get burned early tend to be more cautious. After all, there's that prayer of theirs, _teach me ways to grow from what I learn._ "

Carol thought back over it all. The natives and the soldiers; the riot and the bomb; standing in the rain outside the Smithsonian; arguments and lectures; and rocket launches both peaceful and deadly.

"And if nothing else," she said, "This has certainly been a learning experience."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

American Spaceflight has always been one of those finicky things… even if plans of the Deep Space Gateway first appeared on paper in 2015, there's no guarantee that it will get built. Still, Commercial Space continues to march along, and SpaceX, Boeing, and Blue Origin all have manned flights penciled in for next year. We're living in exciting times and, even in a cynical world, it makes me smile to think about the fact that, in some respects, we are still growing from what we've learned, and are still moving forward.

This work was heavily inspired by the _Axis of Time_ series by John Birmingham, _Arc Light_ by Eric L. Harry, and _Voyage_ by Stephen Baxter. If you're looking for interesting reads on science, space, or nuclear warfare, they all have unique and interesting perspectives on their respective topics, and I would easily recommend all three.

I do not have any immediate plans to write a sequel to _A Sky Full of Fire_ , but I wrote this story on a whim in the first place. If another good show or book catches my eye, I might return to some of the characters if I need them.

Well, that's it! If you've made it this far, thank you for your patience, feedback, and continued interest in the story. If you still have any lingering questions, comments, or just want to chat, feel free to PM me!

8andahalfby11

May 11, 2017


	21. Bonus: Post-Flight Conference

**Bonus Chapter: Post-Flight Conference**

 **EIGHT MONTHS AFTER THE BLUE ORIGIN FLIGHT FROM ALNUS**

 **NASA Visitor Complex, Kennedy Space Center, USA**

While Carol's worldview had changed a great deal after her experiences in the Special Region, the reality of her day-to-day had not. Ultimately, she had returned to the familiar settings of offices, desks, and computer screens, punctuated by the occasional tour or presentation. Some presentations, like those about flight dynamics in the Special Region's upper atmosphere, she thoroughly enjoyed. Others, namely those that ended in questions from Cable News groups, she did not.

"Is it true that the success of the Midgetman Missile and Launcher in Falmart is responsible for restarting their production at Boeing and Lockheed Martin?"

"I can't answer that."

"Colonel Richard Mullan was moved to US Forces Korea recently. In light of the current nuclear drama with North Korea, do you feel that his experience in Falmart might be related?"

"No idea."

"An anonymous source claims that Marines from the 5th CSG in Yokosuka were deployed through the Gate based off an emergency action report from the far side. Care to comment?"

"No."

So Carol was pleasantly surprised when NASA Administrator Kosinski made her aware of a closed presentation to key American Aerospace figures… particularly once she saw the name of the lecturer and title of the lecture.

Early Aviation Experiments in the Special Region

By Greta Sareteian

This was how Carol found herself standing out in the middle of the sweltering heat in front of NASA's Visitor Complex at the Kennedy Space Center. As before, they needed her for her Japanese-English translation skills, but Carol would have gone even if they hadn't needed her skills. Letters and the rare video-conference paled in comparison to seeing an old friend face-to-face.

So when the State Department SUV finally arrived, she laughed as Greta raced over and embraced her with a warm hug. "I've missed you!" Greta exclaimed.

"It's been way too long," Carol agreed. "Look at you! You've just stepped off an international flight, yet you still look amazing!"

Greta laughed at that. "I've gotten used to it, I think. I've done more traveling in the past year than in my entire life before that!"

"Did you get a chance to do any touring on the way in?"

"Nothing big," she said, and pointed behind her. "They're still antsy about taking me to public places."

Carol glanced over Greta's shoulder to peek at the two stoic Diplomatic Security Service agents behind her. She wasn't surprised; Greta still counted as "SR Biology" and was still, if Defense Secretary Clayton was correct, a target for kidnapping.

"I'll see if I can pull a few strings," Carol said. "After all, if Itami could get Pina into Tokyo Disneyland, I'm sure the State Department can safely guide you through EPCOT."

But by this point, Greta's attention was already on the imposing Rocket Garden standing adjacent to the visitor's center. Even from the parking lot, it was easy to identify the skinny black and white Mercury-Redstone, the shiny silver Mercury-Atlas, and the stern military gray Gemini-TItan. Each was kept in such pristine condition that it seemed, with a little work, they could all be called upon to perform their former duties and haul people into space the next day. "Those are the old ones," Carol pointed out with a grin. "We've got some much better stuff elsewhere; Shuttle Atlantis, a Saturn V… you can touch a moon rock, if you're interested."

Greta laughed at that. "Then I'll have touched _three_ worlds!"

It was an odd thing for Carol to think about, but she supposed that Greta was correct. It was just… strange. She had lived so much of her life with Earth being the only globe accessible to the general public, but now, having stood on both sides of the Gate, she had visited as many worlds as an Apollo astronaut. _Weird._

The lecture hall was packed, both with civilian-sector engineers and Department of Defense Officials. Carol even recognized a handful of them from the DARPA lecture on SR-Phizons, and was both shocked and unsettled to see Secretary Clayton standing at the back of the room.

When the man noticed her, he gave her a polite smile, a nod, and turned away. _He wouldn't show up if this was just a social call_ , she thought, _something's wrong here._

By this point, Greta was fussing with the computer as she prepared to load a PowerPoint presentation. That was another strange thing, Carol reflected. She recalled, all that time ago, how confused Greta had been the first time she'd seen a computer. It was interesting how quickly she'd adapted, and it made her wonder how much equipment Greta currently controlled in Falmart.

The lights dimmed, and Carol found herself in the strangest reversal of all. Weeks ago, it had been her giving a speech on Earth technology to the residents of Falmart while Greta translated. Here, Greta was giving a speech on Special Region technology to the residents of America while she acted as the translator.

"Hello everyone!" Greta began, "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Greta Sareteian. I'm the head of Empress Co Lada's Imperial Aviation Group, and I'm one of two Imperial citizens who was given the privilege to fly with American and Japanese astronauts aboard Blue Origin's New Shepard launcher. Today, I'm here to talk about advances in home-made aircraft and rocketry in the Special Region."

She moved to her first slide, which was a split-screen picture. On the left, a messenger on a Wyvern. On the right, a picture from the last Midgetman missile launch. Carol recognized the significance of the picture, and why someone had been around to take it. Only a few audience members knew, but that picture showed the third and only nuclear attack since the end of World War II.

But that wasn't the focus of Gretas lecture. "On the left is aviation as it stood in the Special Region prior to the JSDF arrival last year. Messengers would climb aboard the Wyverns pictured here, and would carry limited messages from city to city. This poses a number of problems, namely the time and gold needed to breed, train, house, and feed new Wyvern and Wyvern flyers. The idea of mechanical flight introduced by the Earth armies was a new and novel approach, and it opened up the potential benefits that Earth had known for well over a century—faster travel, heavier loads, less training time, and, ideally, cheaper development. While we know that we will likely not match American or Japanese technology in the near future, we are hopeful that our current up-front investment in this technology will help us in the future."

She moved to the next slide, which showed video footage of a condensed wood rocket. Compared to anything that the people of Earth had brought to Falmart, even Carol's model rockets, this was an extremely crude vehicle, held together by metal straps. In the video clip, the rocket was launched from a safe distance by a magician's fire. After a two second wait, the rocket lept off its pad, and continued on a vertical path for a good three hundred feet before tilting over and careening off-trajectory before exploding. "Rocket progress, while the most popular with the people, is also the most challenging," Greta explained. "While Flamart has benefitted greatly from access to Earth Physics, a lack of access to Earth chemistry has meant that we haven't been able to find a good propellant mixture. The fact that the Empire has extremely limited metalworking options means that we've had to make do with bolted wood. Our magicians are also finding it difficult to control the rockets in-flight, and since electrical engineering is a foreign science to us, the launch vehicles usually don't go where we want them to. Aerodynamic fins give us more control than we might have otherwise, but until we can create a reliable, metal engine nozzle, it's a blessing whenever the rockets manage to fly straight."

More video clips of rocket flights, some successes, some abysmal failures, and one particularly memorable picture of JSDF observers diving for cover as a faulty rocket just barely passed over their heads. Amid the amused laughter, Carol heard one engineer whisper to another, "It's like _October Sky!_ "

"Suffice it to say," Greta concluded, "That until we become better at metalworking, perfect propellant, and find some way to improve remote control, a home-grown space program is off the table."

Carol took a moment to glance back over at her protégé, and was saddened by the annoyed look on Greta's face. _I know that feeling,_ she thought. She experienced that feeling every time an incoming presidential administration upended NASA's ongoing mission goals, or whenever someone brought up the idea of exoplanets as travel destinations. So much to do, so many places to go, but sometimes the world was either unwilling or unable to follow up. Both politics and technological progress only moved so quickly, and it was a pain waiting for either group to catch up with your dreams.

"Fortunately," Greta said, brightening, "We've had a bit more success with general aviation!"

The next slide showed a contraption that was at once extremely familiar, yet remarkably strange. It was a wooden biplane… of a model that wouldn't have looked out of place in a 1908 airshow, save for the fact that the vehicle pictured had no engine. For a moment Carol was taken aback; did Falmart actually possess the technology to make something like that? As she thought about it, however, she realized that the idea wasn't as far-fetched as she'd initially thought. Early airplanes were mostly wood, canvas, and rope cables, with only a tiny amount of metal for the fittings. Building an engineless airplane—or a wooden glider, in this instance—would only be a minor challenge for a team of carpenters in Italica or Sadera.

"Between observing F-4 Phantoms in practice, and reviewing aerospace physics equations in principle, we've managed to develop some of the first light aircraft in the Special Region. Like with the rockets, flyable aircraft were faced with the absence of good metalworking and propellant; we do not have the ability to build piston-engines, nor do we have the ability to refine the fuel need to run one. The out-of control propellants used in our rockets was also shown to be unacceptable, after a few… very close calls, and more than a few broken bones."

Carol noticed that Greta's left hand went to her right arm as she said that and feared the worst. _She's trying to fly these things herself? It's amazing she's still alive!_

"Fortunately, we have one more means of propulsion available to us in the Special Region, and that's magic!" Greta moved to another slide with a looping animation. In it, a magician was using magic to force a propeller to rotate...and it did, but nowhere near fast enough to be use for manned flight.

"Our initial idea was to copy earth designs, where you use a force to spin a propeller or jet turbine," Greta said. "But once again, we ran into the issue of power and speed. Using this method, the propellor could not move fast enough to keep the aircraft aloft, and the caster tired quickly. It seemed that we were doomed to keep using Wyverns forever, until we hit upon a solution that came—not from Earth, but from our own homeland!"

A second picture joined the first, this time a painting of a Fire Dragon. "The Large Dragons of Falmart have been the subject of a great deal of magical and scientific study. Once we had access to Earth physics we were able to confirm what had only been a suspicion until recently; Fire and Ice Dragons cannot support their own weight or speed in powered flight by normal, physical means. Instead, they channel magic to force themselves through the air. This explains how they were able to keep pace with JASDF F-4 Phantoms, even though the dragons are flapping wings instead of sucking air into jet engines.

"With this in mind, we tried a new approach; we threw out the idea of engine turbines and set up a magical ward within the airplane wings. This ward takes air from in front of the aircraft and forces it past the wings at storm-force speeds. Since producing strong winds is far less costly on the caster than physically moving or rotating solid objects, we found much more success."

She turned to switch to the next slide, and Carol heard some mutters from the audience. In particular, the words "propellantless ramjet" caught her attention, and it seemed like a reasonably accurate description. The method in question had no moving parts, yet it was still serving the function of a jet engine. In a way, the Falmart method was better than an Earth ramjet; a ramjet requires air to already be flowing through the engine to act as an oxidiser for the burning propellant, while Greta's design could, in theory, begin functioning from a complete standstill.

And this was proven by the next slide, which displayed a video of the aircraft in flight. What surprised Carol most was the sound—or, more precisely, the lack thereof. Even in electric aircraft, one could usually hear the thrumming of the propellers, but this aircraft let off soft _hiss_ as it raced over the cameraman. The only sound Carol could compare it to was the noise of air escaping a pressurized scuba tank, but even that wasn't quite right. Compared to any Earth aircraft, Greta's flying machine was virtually silent. As she looked over the audience, she noticed some representatives from the Army and Marines suddenly lean forward in rapt attention.

In the back, she could see Clayton examining the vehicle with a furrowed brow before turning to whisper something to an Air Force officer standing next to him, who shrugged, then started up in a hurried whisper of his own.

"The current limitations of this kind of flight are based on the weight of the vehicle, and the the ward," Greta continued. "While the ward is less strenuous than rotating physical objects, it still expends the caster's energy, and it still relies on a line-of-sight relationship between the caster and vehicle. This means that you need to either fly within range of the caster's vision, or carry the magician aboard with you as a flight engineer."

The slideshow ended, and Greta turned to face the audience. "As you can see, while we don't have the technology to match Japan and America in space or aviation technology, we are just starting to explore what magic does in the context of aviation, and we're very excited about the long-term possibilities.

"Are there any questions?"

While the various academics and defense department officials remained relatively composed, the engineers from Boeing, Lockheed Martin, and Northrop Grumman lunged to their feet, all shouting to be heard over each other.

"What kind of thrust do you get out of a magical ward, and is the size of the ward scalable!?"

"Is the ward fixed in place? Can it be gimbaled mid-flight?"

"If you stack wards, does the thrust remain constant, and if it grows, it is arithmetic or geometric!?"

"If you mounted two wards in opposite directions over a static rotor, would it give you vertical thrust, like with a helicopter?"

As Greta struggled to figure out what they were saying and who she should answer first, the Air Force officer raced from the back of the room to the front and, to Carol's annoyance, declared, "Okay, everyone, due to the nature of this discussion, we need to check each question individually before giving our guest from the Special Region too much to think about."

Carol approached him, and said, "What exactly are you—"

"Mr. Clayton requests your presence outside in the Rocket Garden," the officer added. "We'll have someone here to take over translations in a minute."

* * *

 **The Rocket Garden, Kennedy Space Center, USA**

After the cool, air-conditioned darkness of the auditorium, the late-day light and humid Florida air were oppressive, and Carol winced away from both of them. _What is this?_ She wondered. _The situation with the Bomb in the Special Region is over, as far as I'm concerned. Why does he still want to talk to me?_

The Rocket Garden had been completely emptied out, and Carol found Clayton in the shadow of the Gemini-TItan rocket. It was interesting, in a way. Much like the first two Midgetman flights out of Alnus, TItan had been initially designed to launch atomic bombs from missile silos situated across the country. NASA had reappropriated the rocket, and readjusted its function for scientific purposes. Despite this, the Cold War greys, whites and blacks spoke clearly of the vehicle's original function. This was a weapon.

"There's no nice way to put this," Clayton said. "So I'll be blunt. Once Greta leaves today, it is the intent of both America and Japan to prevent the Special Region from gaining any and all remaining Earth technological knowledge."

Carol looked at him, aghast. "What? Why?"

"Everything that Greta has discussed has already been analyzed by think tanks on both sides of the Pacific, and we have determined that giving the Imperials any further technological hints would produce a long-term military threat."

"Wait, wait," Carol said, holding up her hands, "let me make sure I'm understanding you correctly. You, _the United States Secretary of Defense_ , think that model rockets and wood gliders are a potential danger to a 21st-century fighting force."

"A _long-term_ danger, yes."

Carol rolled her eyes. "No one's going to blow up a steel tank with a cardboard rocket."

Clayton raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd say that. I also thought that you would start quoting Special Region poetry to me by now, but since we're on the topic of creative writing, how about a line from a famous American?"

He handed her his phone, which displayed an image of… a rocket. It was small, mostly made of wood like Greta's but relied on a long pole for in-flight stabilization rather than aerodynamic fins.

" _And the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air_ … sound familiar?" Clayton said. "Francis Scott Key was referring to Congreve rockets, like the one pictured there. They were developed in 1804, using technology not much more advanced than what the Saderan Empire can access right now. By Key's time, the British had been able to mass-produce them effectively enough to rain about six hundred of them on Ft. McHenry."

"But America won the battle of Ft. McHenry," Carol pointed out. "That's why we made that poem our national anthem."

"America won that particular engagement because the Congreve rockets had a shorter range than the guns on the Fort. But now, think back to Greta's rockets. You've given Falmart the early technology to skip the guiding rod and move to aerodynamic fins. If the _HMS Erberus_ had been armed with Greta's rockets instead of Congreve's, we might be singing a very different national anthem."

Carol shook her head. "That's a stupid comparison. If the Americans at Ft. McHenry had the weapons that _we_ have, they would've sunk the _Erberus_ with a fighter jet before it ever got into the bay."

"Even if the same rockets had the ability to track the fighter jet?" Clayton said.

"Greta said that they _have not_ mastered remote control of the rockets."

"Falmart made the technological leap to their current rockets, from bows and arrows, in nine months. Where do you suppose they'll be by the end of the decade?"

"Hopefully with a government that hires smarter think tanks," Carol said. "I refuse to imagine any near-future scenario where Pina Co Lada fields domestically-produced Surface to Air Missile batteries. The infrastructure isn't there, and it won't be there for a long, long time."

"Then you're missing the big picture," Clayton insisted. "That argument might work for an Earth civilization because infrastructure setup is a tedious process; you need energy, and something to make that energy transportable, and utilizable, hence why oil and natural gas continue to dictate so much of Earth geopolitics. Now, think about Greta's airplane. There's no engine. Falmart has thrown out the entire production line of metalworking, oil drilling, and mechanical engineering—the most complicated part of the aircraft—and replaced it with magic. Next, think about Greta's rocket. They're skipping the invention of computer circuitry and imaging and using magic to give the rocket control authority. I've said in the past that having magical technology components opened up a world of opportunity, but it also allows Falmart to technologically skip ahead by centuries… and unlike us, _they know **how** to use magic._

"That's why we need to cut off their knowledge base while we still can, before they know the right questions to ask, and leapfrog their way to even more dangerous equipment."

She was following him... barely. The natives of the Special Region had always been fascinated and envious of Earth technology, but were slow to believe in the capabilities of science until they saw a particular invention or weapon in action. Once they did, all bets were off; she vividly recalled Cicero La Moltose begging Colonel Mullan for American-made arms. Would they be willing to try and make a weapon on concept alone? "They aren't likely to try and build something that they haven't observed to be effective in battle," Carol conceded.

Clayton frowned. "And what was the strongest weapon used in the Special Region. Would you like to see them with one of _those?_ "

Carol felt like she was going to be sick. Hadn't Lelei La Leleina been standing there as Itami described the correct name and function of a nuclear bomb? The girl was already celebrated for her curiosity… what if she'd had the chance to look it up? Perhaps the Imperial armies with their swords and arrows couldn't stand against the JSDF, but with the right application of magic, the tide could change. In a horrific flash, she had a mental image of hundreds of wood bombers, flying low to avoid radar detection and practically silent to anyone below, suddenly appearing in the nighttime skies above Alnus and dropping nuclear IEDs, blasts of magic, and who-knew what else on the base below. The Japanese could drive them off with modern aircraft, but not before taking serious casualties on the ground.

If Clayton was correct, a big chunk of this was her fault, starting with the Heliocentricity lecture and the agreement to provide Rondel with Calculus and Calculus-derived physics equations, and continuing through her conversation with Itami in front of the natives. It was, she decided, possible for a group of Falmart academics to build a crude nuclear device.

What if they were already too late?

"It's deterrence," Carol said.

"That's right."

"Why tell me this? Why not just cut them off?"

"Because you have a close relationship to the Director of Aviation development in Falmart," Clayton stated. "The Imperials will develop combined magical-technological parity to our own weapons eventually. The speed of that development will be reliant on how much Greta pushes them, and how soon someone decides to user her inventions as a delivery system. Think of her as Pina's own Wernher von Braun or Sergei Korolev. By the point that the Saderan Empire considers retaking territory from Japan, we need to have our own magic-based technology ready to counter them. In short, we need Greta to stall for us. You seem to have a knack for stalling nuclear destruction, so I figured that you would be the best person to ask."

"There's no alternative?"

"The second option is that we take Greta out onto the Atlantic, shoot her, and dump her overboard. This loses us favor with the Empire, and increases the pressure for Falmart to reach technological parity, but it would certainly help to slow them down in the short-term. I'd prefer not to do it that way, but that's our backup plan in case your plan fails."

Carol's jaw dropped at that, then snapped back shut. "You're awful," she said.

"Geopolitics in general is awful," Clayton countered with a shrug. "I'll give you half an hour to think about it. If I approve, I'll let you move forward with it."

He turned to leave and Carol shouted after him, "If what you're saying is true... if you plan on cutting off all of their knowledge sources, I'll never be able to talk to Greta again!"

The Secretary of Defense stopped, said, "Every story must end eventually, Dr. Dawson," and went on his way.

* * *

 **FOUR HOURS LATER**

 **Launch Complex 39 Viewing Gantry, Kennedy Space Center, USA**

Launch Complex 39A stood against the embers of a darkening twilight, brightly illuminated by powerful floodlights that revealed the imposing, white tri-core form of a SpaceX Falcon Heavy.

"So that's it," Greta said, her voice barely rising above a whisper, "A real, working moon rocket."

Carol joined her at the rail of the observation gantry. This was the closest permissible viewing area to the launch pad, and the closest she could bring Greta on short notice. "The closest thing we have, for now," she said. "Falcon Heavy can throw a manned capsule around the moon… not enough stuff for the capsule to go into orbit, but definitely enough for a flyby. Depending on how Deep Space Gateway goes, they might upgrade it with motors to put it into orbit, or they might build an even bigger rocket."

"You make it sound so easy."

Carol couldn't help but laugh and shake her head. "It's anything but. We've been trying to get SLS off the ground, in one form or another, for a decade and a half. Even SpaceX has been running into trouble with the Heavy, delay after delay after delay. It became a joke in Space circles that the first launch of Falcon Heavy was six months away… and always would be. That rocket over there? It's their first attempt to launch the thing. At this point, I think most of us will be satisfied if it makes it off the pad before it explodes."

But Greta didn't laugh along with her, her eyes transfixed on the rocket. "We're never going to have anything like that in Falmart," she said.

"Greta!"

"I mean it!" She turned to Carol a fierce look in her eyes. "They don't… they just don't _get it_ over there, Carol. All Pina cares about is keeping the satisfaction of the Senate. She doesn't care about what's up there, or how it could help people. My work is under constant supervision of the Royal Guard, and the only reason why I'm head of the Imperial Aviation Group instead of Senator La Moltose, is because I know some of the engineering and he doesn't... and because it looks good to the people to have an astronaut working for her."

Greta was shaking by this point. "And I hate it! I wish I could have taken them up on New Shepherd with me. From up there, all the politics, the popularity contests, it's just so _stupid._ "

But, against her better reasoning, Carol found herself responding with a snort and a sad grin.

"What?"

"Congratulations, Greta. You've caught up with me."

The girl gave her a confused look. "I don't understand," she said. "You've solved the problems for weight, thrust, control… you put a probe into orbit around another planet!"

Carol laughed. "I've got one more story, for you, Greta. I suspect that you know most of it already, but it's worth repeating."

"Is this the one about private spaceflight?"

"Nope."

"Apollo and the Space Race?"

"No. Way more recent."

"Then where does it start?"

"About nine months ago...over there." Carol pointed over Greta's shoulder, down the coast towards Cape Canaveral Air Force Station.

"People that are interested in spaceflight have a bad habit of jumping to optimistic predictions," Carol began. "I'm no different. I was standing outside of ULA's VIB at Launch Complex 41 when I was approached by Colonel Mullan with a story about a space program beyond the Gate. At first I was shocked, but I couldn't help but think to myself, _this is it. The government is finally interested in Space for the sake of Space. We'll get to show everyone our cool technology, and learn new things, and just have a great time._

"This was a big deal for me, because NASA has been bogged down with political interests ever since the Apollo program ended. What you just said about being up in space, and how it nullifies all the stupidity down below, I've heard it before. I've heard it four hundred times before, by every other person who's had a chance to go up there and see it for themselves. I was tired about Congress dragging its feet, or the goals of NASA changing with each new administration. The Falmart project was a chance to go out there and just do good things.

"Or… that's what I was hoping it was. You know what happened, and you saw first hand how upset I was… but you know what? I've had months to think back on it, and I think that I was successful. I helped a nation pull itself out of ignorance, and I helped Falmart's best aeronautical engineer kickstart her career. And these things didn't happen because I waited around for the government to make up its mind. I did it because…"

She looked back out ot the Falcon Heavy, "I did it because...I thought it was worth it.

"But you've heard that speech already," Carol said with a sigh. "So when I say that you've caught up, it's because you're where I am right now. Not technologically, just emotionally."

Greta followed her gaze. "So where's the way out?"

When Carol had described her plan to Clayton, it had ultimately boiled down to a single question, "How did the United States keep Russian rocket engineers from running to North Korea and Iran?"

The answer?

"Leave. Start your own space project," Carol said.

"Without funding from Pina's government?" Greta asked.

"Sure!"

"How?" Greta asked. "Where would I get the funding? How would we keep the Saderan government from intervening?"

"I talked it over with Defense Secretary Clayton. Moving your aerospace group somewhere safe to play with plane and rocket tech would be cheap, compared to some of the other tricky maneuvers that the US has pulled in the past." The theory that Carol had explained to the Secretary of Defense was that if Pina's aeronautics council could be gutted, evacuated, then occupied with research tasks under US observation, then they couldn't be used for weapons development. The same principle had worked on Russia by keeping their rocket scientists involved in the International Space Station, and it had proven effective for at least fifteen years.

"And even if you had answers to both of those questions," Greta said, "we still don't have the technology to build a working space vehicle—"

"I think you might. I think you're almost there."

That stopped Greta dead in her tracks. "We can do planes," she said. "Barely. Not rockets. You can't get to space on an airplane."

Carol said nothing, but produced a postcard from the Visitor Complex's gift shop. Greta took it, and as she examined the picture on the front, her eyes widened. "And this is real?" she asked. "This actually flew?"

"Sure did! Achieved two suborbital flights the same year that Project Mercury wrapped up. It also demonstrated spacecraft reusability eighteen years before the Space Shuttle. I'd be willing to bet that a version of this, with a magic-based propulsion unit, lofted by one of your wood carrier planes, might just be enough for Special-Region built, manned spaceflight."

The girl held the picture up to the fading light so she could get a better understanding of the details before saying, "We're still a few years away from some of this, I think, but maybe… no, not maybe. I _can_ make this work!"

Before Greta could add anything else, they were interrupted by a pair of approaching DSS agents. "Time's up, miss," one of them said. "Will you be accepting Dr. Dawson's proposal?"

"Yes, of course!" Greta said, and was about to rush back over to them when she hesitated, then asked, "How long will it be before I get to see Carol again?"

The DSS agents said nothing, so Carol answered for them. "Without alerting Pina? It might be a very long time."

"But we _will_ see each other again, right?"

Carol could only offer a sad smile as she said, "I hope so."

In reality, of course, who knew? They grasped each other in one last, firm hug and Greta, just before departing turned, held up the postcard and asked, "Does this thing have a name?"

"No name, just a code," Carol said. "It's called the X-15. It's a spaceplane. Good luck, Greta!"

Greta smiled back at her. "I had a great mentor, I'll take that over luck any day!"

Carol Dawson watched them go, then looked back one more time at the Falcon Heavy waiting on the launch pad. Would Greta's rocketplane be as successful as the X-15? Would forces in Falmart with magical-technology weapons be a threat in the near future? And what magical deterrence was the Department of Defense planning that would outclass Special Region magic?

Would the Falcon Heavy across from her make it safely into space?

Who knew?

If all of human history could be compressed into a single idiom, it would probably be "Playing with fire." On the one hand, there was always that risk of pain, loss, and destruction. Whether through nuclear fire or any other kind of abused scientific knowledge, that danger would always be there. On the other hand, fire brought warmth from the cold, and light out of the darkness. Fire, technology in general, was humanity's big risk.

And that risk, Carol decided, was worth taking.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

About two months ago, I found myself looking at an article in IEEE magazine regarding electricity-driven propeller planes. While reading, I couldn't help but think back to Greta and her aerospace ambitions, and was reminded of the fact that she and Carol had never been granted a proper goodbye, and that the Calculus/Engineering equations provided to Rondel in Chapter 9 would theoretically be enough to build a magic-powered glider.

Oops.

So after fighting against it for weeks, and finally gave in and wrote the above. If you preferred the ending in Chapter 20, you can take it or leave it.

 _So, will there be a sequel?_

I have some notional ideas for a sequel, built on concepts outlined in this chapter, but I don't want to commit to it until I see what's going on with GATE Season 2. If Yannai gets another anime for his submarine warfare story, or if I suddenly find myself with loads of free time, I might follow up with my post-war Falmart and Spaceplane story.

Like everything else in Spaceflight, we'll just have to wait and see…

8andahalfby11

October 4, 2017 - 60th Anniversary of Unmanned Spaceflight


	22. The Raid: Prelude to Sky Full of Thunder

**Author's Note:**

I am pleased to announce that I have been drafting a sequel to ASFoF, titled _**A Sky Full of Thunder**_ , which has been released on the anniversary of the original. The sequel takes place seven years after the events of _Fire_ , and is designed to address a number of areas that I feel have yet to be thoroughly explored in Gate Fanfics:

-The post-Civil War world order, the dynamics of Pina's new government, and the relationship with Japan and the United States.

-The effect of even limited access to Earth technology and money, and how it affects the Special Region.

-The implementation of known concepts from _Weigh Anchor_ , limited in scope, but enough to start the conversation on how they can be applied to the world in the future.

-The reaction to a certain weapon being used, and how it would affect the public image of the people from Earth.

-...and, of course, the lingering challenge that Carol posed to Greta at the end of Chapter 21. Is the fusion of magic and technology enough to make home-grown spaceflight possible?

As before, it's a character-driven work with action only where appropriate, the culture clash takes center stage, and American military involvement will be heavily restrained. I currently have a few chapters worth of content in reserve, and I'll be releasing the story at a pace that's hopefully consistent with my real-life schedule. Will this be as good as ASFoF? Probably not, but I hope that it gives people things to think about.

For now, here's a flashback section that got cut from Chapter 3. It messed with the pacing and was from the wrong character perspective, but I had too much fun with it to want to discard it.

* * *

 **THE RAID: A Prelude to _A Sky Full of Thunder_**

 **SEVEN YEARS EARLIER, THIRTY MINUTES AFTER MIDNIGHT**

 **Above Telta, Falmart**

Princess Pina Co Lada had practiced this particular mission two dozen times, the first twelve in daylight, and the last twelve on pitch-black nights. While she had grown more confident in her role since the first attempt, the fact that they were here, finally carrying it out, filled her with a measure of dread.

Since the first time they'd practiced, the raid had become increasingly refined. This time, her helicopter was loaded only with members of the JSFG, whose Japanese commands were more familiar to her than the American's barked English. As a result, she didn't see a single American until they had already been disgorged onto the roof the Royal Manor.

And the first, of course, were Captain Hines of the 24th STS and a pair of Combat Controllers. She had become aware of the men after their actions at the Second Battle of Alnus against Hardy, Giselle, and their army of monsters. They hadn't appeared shaken then, and they way they appeared now, quiet, gargoyle-like as they watched from the rooftop, was chilling. Hines spotted her through the alien green eyes of his night vision goggles, and gave her a curt nod before returning to his duties.

Around the walls of the building, she could barely make out the forms of more American "Deltas" as they cut through Zorzal's guards. She had never interacted with them, but knew from observation that the walls would likely be cleared in six minutes or less. Occasionally, one would radio to Hines and his Controllers, who would call upon the airmen of the 160th SOAR to tackle a particularly well-defended position with their "Little Birds" and "Black Hawks."

She had no time to watch, however, as Itami and the other Japanese soldiers drew her across a balcony and into the Manor. Here, a different team had been busy. The hall was already littered with the bodies of various guards and officers, and was remarkably empty, save for two men, who were covering a position by the balcony door. These, she had been told, were SEALs; if it wasn't enough that America had specialists for their Army and Air Force, they had them for their Navy too. Despite the fact that they were hundreds of leagues from the closest ocean, the Americans had seen fit to send this group into the Manor itself, and, seeing the results on the floor, Pina wasn't about to argue.

"Progress?" the leader of the JSFG, a man with the callsign 'Saber' asked.

"This floor and the one below us are clear," one SEAL stated. "Six is finishing up on the floor above us. They're preparing one of their guys for medevac."

"What happened?"

"Stabbed by that rabbit woman we were warned about."

 _Tyuule is here?_ Pina thought, and was about to ask her condition before the SEAL clarified, "But now she's dead, so fair's fair."

The JSFG officer frowned. "That was not what we agreed to."

"Not what I heard."

"We'll discuss this later. Zorzal?"

"They have him, they're just waiting on you."

With that, they moved down the hall, up a flight of stairs, and to a large room at the end of the third floor.

This was also part of the plan; the windows had been blacked out by thick tarps, and the room was fully lit by bright LED lamps, which illuminated the room's eight occupants.

Seven of the men present were of America's Elites of Elite, SEAL Team Six. Pina had never had a chance to see these men in action, the practice operation was normally at this stage by the time that she had arrived. She was willing to believe that they were as dangerous as they claimed to be, however. Itami had recounted for her one instance where this same group had been flown into another nuclear-armed country to kill a dangerous tribal leader, which had been the point that she realized that there wasn't anything particularly special about this mission. In fact, for these men, _it was ordinary._

Two of these men stood at the ready with handheld camcorders, while the others stood guards over the eighth man, her brother.

Zorzal was a pitiful sight, having been attacked in his nightclothes, beaten into submission, restrained with zip-tie straps, and, from the looks of it, injected with some kind of medicine that placed him into a daze. When he saw her, he looked up and, with swimming eyes, called out to her, "Pina!"

Weeks of practice had caused Pina to become detached from the whole mission, but that was the moment where everything suddenly became real. This time, the SEALs were not standing around a training dummy. It was really him.

With a signal from one of the camera-holding SEALs, Pina started into the old customary challenge. "In the sight of our God Emroy, I do challenge your right of the Throne of Sadera. If you ever valued that post, defend it now with your life."

In the old stories, the line usually preceded an epic duel of famous men with famous swords that would be sung about by bards for decades to come. Here, the fight was over before it had even started. "Pina!" Zorzal cried from his kneeling position on the tile floor, "Pina, please! I don't want to die, please, stop!"

She held out her hand, and Itami placed into it a Mineba 9mm pistol. With long-practiced motions, she disengaged the safety, spread her legs slightly to stabilize herself, and took aim at her brother's head. At this distance of a few feet, it was impossible to miss.

And yet, staring into Zorzal's face, it was not his words that echoed in her head, but a different set, spoken weeks prior.

 _Step Eighteen, in Launch Action at this time. Hands on keys._

"I surrender!" Zorzal said, "Isn't that good enough for you? I'm sorry!"

 _Turn on my mark._ Her finger curled around the trigger.

"How could you do this!?"

 _Three._

"Pina!"

 _Two._

"YOU'RE MY SISTER!"

 _One._

The roar of the gunshot stayed with her for seven years.


End file.
